A Bird in Flight: Revelries of a Quidditch Captain
by SailingAwaySoftly
Summary: You might say Ravenclaw Rue Von Straussburg leads a life that is a beautiful landscape, except for that one small, disgusting smudge: Oliver Wood. Overflowing with mischief, havoc-wrecking, and Scot-bashing, Rue's year will be most interesting. WoodOC.
1. Of Prologues and Broomsticks

It was a warm day, a pleasant break from the rain we'd been receiving lately. I found myself stepping through the archway from the Leaky Cauldron's alleyway to Diagon Alley. I followed in step behind my older brother, Klaus, en route to meeting up with Anna Walker, his girlfriend. By some sort of miracle, Klaus and I had managed to convince our parents that we would be fine venturing into the dangerous and perilous zone that is Diagon Alley by our onesies, without any parental supervision whatsoever.

As it were, it seemed that not only had our parents given in to our persistent nagging, but that the weather had decided to be agreeable too. Meeting up with Anna, we managed to decide that a trip to Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlour was in order, and then we could commence our expedition for school books and supplies.

"And what would you like, Miss?"

"Errrrm," I paused thoughtfully.

"Make up your mind," Klaus whined, perhaps a bit annoyed with the indecisiveness of the female species.

"Hurry up, RVS, you're holding up the queue."

I turned around to see who had called me that, ready to give them an ear full about the importance of making the correct choice of ice cream flavour, when I realized it was only Fred and George Weasley, one of which sent me a wink while the other sheepishly shrugged upon seeing my angry expression.

I smiled, "Well, since it's you troublesome two waiting to place an order, I do believe I will take all the time that I feel like in making this earth-shattering decision."

"Urgh," Klaus groaned in frustration. Anna remained quiet, not one to intervene in the brotherly-sisterly banter, and continued licking her strawberry ice cream.

"Fine, fine, I guess I'll have Irish Cream, since I have to make a hasty decision and can't weigh my options."

"Rue, you get the same flavour every time we come here, and yet you always make a scene about wanting to 'branch out' and 'try new things'. You've got to be one of the most regimen-oriented people I know," Klaus said, as he paid for my ice cream.

I shrugged, having little to say. I liked to stick to routine, and I nary ventured far from my well-beaten path of operation. But, hey, maybe one day I really would try a different flavour at Fortesque's. Maybe next time I'd try Double Chocolate Mint, or Pistachio Nut, or Sun-Dried Tomato Swirl. ... Well, maybe not Sun-Dried Tomato Swirl, but the other two sounded perfectly agreeable.

I digress. To put the entire day, thus far, into perspective, I was in an agreeable mood because of my agreeable parents and the agreeable weather, and I was thoroughly enjoying the absolute best flavour of ice cream there is on the planet.

Or so I felt, until that bloody Gryffindor's path crossed mine when I went to look at the new Nimbus 2001.

"Thinking about getting one, Wood?"

He nearly jumped out of his trousers; I had effectively frightened the Scotsboy. I'd call him a Scotsman, but, well...

"What?"

"You getting one, then?"

"I wish."

He was too in awe of the bloody stick with twigs to really volley back a snide remark or two like he normally would have. I looked between William Wallace and the Nimbus 2001 and back several times. It's difficult to banter with your enemy when it's completely one-sided.

I poked him. Hard.

"What was that for?"

"Ignoring me."

"I thought you didn't like talking to me."

"I don't," I answered simply with a shrug, innocently licking at my ice cream.

He glared at me, "Then why bother?"

"Dunno."

We stood in silence for a time. Wood glaring daggers at me while I continued to enjoy my ice cream, looking up at him innocently in what I hoped was a puppy dog-adorable fashion.

Just then, the shopkeeper walked past.

"'Scuse me, sir, but I was wondering if I might buy that broom."

The shopkeeper stopped in his tracks and moved to stand between myself and Wood.

"That's the last one we have left in the shop, I'm afraid..."

"No matter. How much would you like for it?"

Wood, and the shopkeeper, gawked at me as though I had told them that the sky was raining pixies and dragons were spitting Bertie Botts.

"You can't be serious," Wood groaned. Obviously, he had wanted the broom for himself.

"Oho, but I am, my good man!" I turned to the shopkeeper, "So, how much?"

Thirty minutes after bartering with the shopkeeper and arguing with a begging Wood, I found myself walking down the cobblestone street of Diagon Alley with a wrapped up Nimbus 2001 under my arm, and blissfully unaware of the googly, lovey-dovey eyes Klaus and Anna were making behind me, as we made our way back to the Leaky Cauldron.

Yes, it had been a very agreeable day indeed.


	2. Of Bear Hugs and Hand Gestures

It was the first of September, and I was hanging about Platform 93/4, attempting to look nonchalant and cool whilst standing with my family. Obviously, standing with one's family automatically plunges any shred of coolness that a person might have by a rather significant amount. Mum dabbed her eyes with a kerchief, Dad was giving the classic Von Straussburg beginning-of-term lecture which I wasn't listening to, and Klaus kept making eyes at his girlfriend, Anna Walker, across the platform.

As it were, I am a member of the Von Straussburg clan. Funny name for a family that lives in England, eh? And we've all got some fab first names too. Nice gutteral sounds that just make the opposite sex swoon. Really, it's not so much the names, but rather the looks. Not everyone can be incredibly attractive... Not that I am. Klaus is the one with the rugged looks. I'm just, well, me.

Who's that, you wonder? Well, I'm Rue Annaliese Von Straussburg. Yes, Rue is short for something and, no, I'm not going to say what that something is. I'm taller than my mum, which isn't much if you're using an Amazonian woman as a measurement standard. I've got the classic Von Straussburg dark auburn, wavy hair, though mine is a bit more red than my brother's. I've got hazel eyes. There's little that's truly remarkable about me. I suppose you could say I love Quidditch, and I always have. I'm a chaser and a proud captain. I love owls, and ghosts fascinate me. Anyone who claims Professor Binns is a bore is a wanker. He's a fascinating ghost who happens to teach. If I should ever become a ghost, I would hope to be an employed one.

Anyway, as my father continued his lovely little speech, I spied my not-favourite Scotsman and Quidditch rival, his tartan-worshipping family in tow. Oh, how Oliver Wood infuriated me. As his enemy, I had bounds of embarrassing information about him, my favorite being that his middle name is Finley. Honestly. Oliver _Finley_ Wood. Ha. In retrospect, I realize that it is foolish to make fun of someone's middle name, especially if one's own name wasn't exactly normal.

"Rüdiger, are you listening to me?" My dad questioned, his hand clamping down on my shoulder in that fatherly, you-better-start-listening-now kind of way.

"Ja, Herr Von Straussburg!" I gave him a mock salute, shrugging his hand off.

"Hey, Dad, can we, er, get moving then? Now that the beginning-of-term lecture is over?" Klaus asked. Sometimes, I loved that boy ever so much.

"Fine, I suppose. Behave yourselves!"

Mum moved in for the bear hug. As a person who generally hates hugging, being squeezed to death for the sake of my mother's mental state was not high on the list of things I wanted to do before boarding the Hogwarts Express.

"Promise me I won't have to send you a howler again this year. Leave that Wood boy alone, won't you? Keep your marks up-"

"Mum, I know. You say the same thing every year!" I sighed and struggled to get out of her grasp.

"And do you ever listen to me?"

"Yes, I do. I just don't necessarily abide by what you say." I said cheekily, finally springing myself from her hug and walking off to look for my favorite gingers.

* * *

After my parents had left, Klaus and I were on our way to meet up with his girlfriend, Anna. Klaus and Anna had been dating for two years. She was a Hufflepuff, which is marginally better than being a Slytherin. She and Klaus were inseparable, because, or so they claimed, they were in love. I saw her notebook once last term and it was full of doodles of her and Klaus holding hands and kissing and whatnot. Nearly gagged, first off, but, secondly, it led me to the conclusion that she wants to be Mrs. Klaus Brecht Von Straussburg. Honestly, though, Anna Elizabeth Von Straussburg just isn't making the cut, as far as names go. Plus, she wasn't in Ravenclaw.

You see, my family, although deeply German, has been attending Hogwarts since it opened it's doors. We have a place near Dover, which is actually quite pleasant, and makes going to school at Hogwarts much easier than having to travel from the family estate outside of Nürnberg. I usually opted to spend most of the summer in Germany with my most beloved family member, Uncle Freidrich. He conducts historical research for the German Ministry in what is their equivalent of our Department of Mysteries. I often travelled with him across the world, but my parents were never aware.

My brother, at some point, had wandered off with Anna, and I was left awkwardly standing alone on the platform. And my mates, as it were, could not be found. My mates consisted of Quidditch teammates, the lovely ladies of the Ravenclaw sixth year dormitory, and the ever dashing, handsome, charming, witty, and endlessly clever Weasley twins. I often told myself that the Weasleys, except Percy who was a completely prick, were related distantly to the Von Straussburgs. Fred and George were the little brothers I never had and always wanted. They completed me. We ran around the castle pranking, torturing and entertaining, all at the expense of our peers. But I stand by the fact that it was all worth it, because everyone knows the best medicine is laughter.

Wood and I made eye contact as I scanned the platform on my tiptoes in search of the Weasley twins. He gave me the "I'm watching you" hand gesture from his place next to his mum, a lazy smile plastered on his face. I rolled my eyes before gesturing an "Up yours" to him.

This hatred we shared for one another was not completely unfounded. It began on my very first train ride to Hogwarts. I was a silly young girl of eleven years, I found myself in search of a place to sit on the train. Klaus, the dear, left me by my onesy, with nowhere to go. I happened upon an empty compartment, or so I thought. As it were, it was occupied by none other than the brutish Scot himself. I decided to be friendly, and I suppose we were getting along swimmingly, especially because I had refrained from inquiring about his accent, until we got on the topic of Quidditch. Apparently, little girls named Rue aren't allowed to play Quidditch, or so Macduff claimed. I told him he could take what minimal Quidditch skill he likely had, and all the Haggis in Britain, and shove it up his pansy arse.

And that is how Rue and Wood came to be. Our rivalry and discord was not merely a petty one. It was completely warranted.

I had absolutely no romantic interest in Wood, a common misconception. Merely because I enjoyed seeing him distraught and bothered didn't mean I fancied him. He was repulsive. He was a Scot. I, for all intents and purposes, was English. I just happen to be German at the same time. And, in all honesty, what have the Scotch ever given the world? Haggis? Yuck. Kilts? Tacky, and certainly a faux pas, as the Frogs might say. The Loch Ness Monster? Hoax. William Wallace? Had his manhood chopped off; what kind of man is that? Inspiration for the Bard's _Macbeth_? Obviously, it simply shows that they're all bonkers. Clearly, the Scots were good for nothing, and thus by the transitive property that I learned about in Arithmancy, Wood was good for nothing.

* * *

As much as I loved mentally Wood Bashing, as I so called it, I finally spotted my younger, un-related brothers.

"Oi! Rue, get over 'ere!" One called, waving me over.

"Yessir!" I lightly jogged to them.

"'Ello, Mrs. Weasley. Mr. Weasley," I inclined my head in an almost polite manner, before turning to the twins. "How've you been?"

"Great. Plotting. You know, the usual," one replied; George, perhaps?

"You?" The other asked.

"Nearly the same, minus the plotting. That didn't start until about ten minutes ago when I nearly gagged at the repulsive sight of Macduff and Co. arriving."

"Ah-"

"I don't suppose you're talking about Oliver," one interrupted the other.

"Who else do I call Macduff?"

"True, true. Well, shall we? We can leave the younguns and get us a spot."

I nodded in agreement, ready to find a compartment on the train.

After exchanging some pleasantries and bidding good-bye, we were off and making our way down the train's aisle, discussing the various happenings over the summer. It would seem that the boys broke little Harry out from his guardians' place, rescuing him from almost positive horror. Not that they were exaggerating at all. Pfft.

We'd been playing Exploding Snap for over an hour, and I had grown rather bored of the game. Few things manage to captivate my attention for very long. One of those things: Quidditch. And I could hear it being discussed right outside our compartment.

I stood and threw open the sliding door, excited to join in on any Quidditch discussion, no matter who the others in the conversation were. Until I saw who was on the other side of the door, and the look of excitement that had surely graced my features fell immediately.

"Haggis Boy!" I growled angrily in frustration.

"I do have a name, y'know," he remarked flippantly.

"Beg pardon, but are you speaking English?"

"Yeah."

"Whaddya say, mate? Sorry, I speak _English_, not Scottish."

"I'm speaking English, _Rüdiger_." He narrowed his eyes at me.

I turned to Katie Bell, a Gryffindor Chaser, "Do you have any bloody idea what this boy's saying? Personally, I haven't got a clue."

She stifled a chuckle, "I s'pose not, I don't speak Scottish either."

"I _am_ standing right here," Oliver interjected, looking completely distraught.

"I wish I knew what you were saying," Katie said sadly.

I sighed and faked a frown. "Me too."

Katie laughed, which was enough for me. Poking fun at Wood if it made others laugh was enough a reason to do it as any.

**

* * *

I rewrote this chapter because I didn't like it nearly as much as the others, and the tenses were rather confusing. Anyway, if you're new to my writing and whatnot, it's essential you know that I worship J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter universe; all that you recognize from the latter belongs to the former. Do keep reading and ****please review****! Yours.**


	3. Of Sorting Hats and Teammates

What never ceases to amuse me about first years is the looks on their faces. You can always tell which ones are muggle-born, too, as they always have this look of utter disbelief about them. I'd imagine it's about the same look any muggle would have if you shoved them into a crowded Great Hall. I can't say that I was particularly wowed by the sight; Klaus had told me so much about it, I'd had a fairly decent idea of what it would be like months before the event would actually take place. I suppose you could say I was a bit jaded about the whole thing, but that's just how I am.

Despite the lengthiness of the ceremony, I found that, for once, I managed to pay attention. It could've been due to the fact that I spent my time scanning the crowd of incoming firsties for the youngest, and only female, Weasley child. I'd bet the twins three galleons that the hat wouldn't even be on her head for two seconds before it called out "Gryffindor." They said that the hat would barely have time to touch her head before it decided. I had a gut feeling I was right, but there was always the chance, no matter how slim, that I could be wrong.

I remembered awkwardly approaching the stool, nervously taking a seat, and the deep inhale I took before I felt the hat touch my head. To be completely honest, I've had a vendetta against hats since the hat started speaking to me. Anyway, I thought the thing was completely barmy and told, erm, thought it so. Of course the hat had a response, being that I was witty and had a very promising future as a...

"RAVENCLAW!"

I looked up to see who my beloved house had just acquired. Eh, no one of particular consequence, as far as I could tell. Anyway, back to the story of my being placed in Ravenclaw. Unlike most people, I would've clawed that hat to bloody strips of cloth had it not put me in the house of my ancestors. Who would want to be the one person to ever be placed in a house that wasn't the one everyone else in your family had ever been placed in? Not me, I assure you.

After taking a seat next to Klaus at the Ravenclaw table, I watched as the rest of the first years were sorted. I remember when McGonagall called, "Wood, Oliver," and how I prayed to any higher being out there that the Scottish vermin didn't end up in my house. And, thankfully, he didn't. He was sorted into Gryffindor, which I couldn't understand, because he didn't seem particularly loyal or brave. But, hey, maybe he wasn't well suited for any other house and, in desperation, the hat had just put him in the first house alphabetically. There's only so much a bloody hat can do, y'know?

* * *

"Rue, how was your summer then?" Fiona Cavendish asked. She was a fellow chaser, and overall, a brilliant mate.

"Eh, y'know, the usual. Spending time abroad with Uncle Freidrich, solving historical mysteries, ah, and I spent a week at the National German's junior training camp."

"You did what?" Roger Davies cried, interrupting my conversation with Fiona.

Max Jamison cried happily, "That's bloody wicked, Rue! We're going to be better than ever this!"

"I hope so," I said. "But we're going to up the practices this year, yeah? Four times a week, and if your marks aren't up, you'll be on probation."

"Seriously?"

"But my marks are terrible!"

"You can't do that to us!"

"Bloody Nazi!"

I rolled my eyes. Always taking a jab at my nationality. Jealousy doesn't suit anyone.

"Y'know," Davies said, attempting to appear thoughtful, "one might say you're coming off a bit like Wood."

All right, I can put up with people making Nazi jokes, but I draw the line when someone tries to compare me to Macduff.

"I _am not_ like Wood. At all," I seethed.

Our group was silent. Max, the closest to Roger, leaned over to him and advised him to take his comment back and apologise.

"Why would I apologise? It's true."

He's a bloody idiot. I closed my eyes and sighed.

"You're on probation, Davies."

"What?"

"You heard me, you twat. You're on probation until further notice. In fact, I think I'll hold try outs sooner, just to find your replacement."

"You can't do that- Flitwick would never let you."

"I think he would. It's my team, last I checked."

"Wha- I... You... _Huh_?"

"If you want to be on the team for our second game of the year, you'd better not upset me further. And you'd better be practicing on your own, because I won't let you play if you can't fly well after a few weeks of no Quidditch."

So it didn't really play out like that. I wish it had. I mean, if I had the power to write my life, or direct it, or however higher beings play their games, I would've definitely played out that scene as aforementioned. However, when I opened my eyes, it really went a little more like this:

"Oh, you think so?"

"Yeah, actually, I do," he said haughtily.

"I'd advise you to shut your bloody hole, Davies," I sneered.

"Why? What are you going to do about it?"

I shrugged and grumbled in defeat.

* * *

I walked with Fiona as we meandered the corridors, en route to our common room. _I really need to grow a back bone_, I thought to myself, remembering the almost, not-quite confrontation with Davies.

"So, do you fancy Wood any?"

I groaned and looked over at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Why do you always ask me that?"

Apparently Fiona's got it all figured out in her silly little head: I was madly infatuated with Wood, and he with me, and we would one day wed and have a happy little family. Right, Fi, like _that's_ ever going to happen.

"Oh, c'mon. He's attractive, he plays Quidditch, and he's not exactly an idiot," she counted off simultaneously on her fingertips.

"That's just what he wants you to think."

"Yeah, sure, if you say so."

"No, really! He truly is the horrid Scot that I paint him to be! Seriously, he tried to sabotage our Hufflepuff game last year, remember? He isn't all sweet and lovely and-"

"Seems like you've spent a lot of time making up excuses over the summer, Rue," Fiona said, quickly answering the riddle we were posed. I followed her into the Common Room.

"Rue, we're going to break down the percentages of the things you think about on a daily basis, mmkay?"

"No, it's not 'mmkay'."

"Oh, hush up," she said, as we climbed the stairs to our dormitory.

* * *

"So, you've got thirty percent of your daily thinking focusing on Quidditch, thirty-five percent of it planning ways to torture Wood, and other "unsuspecting victims," as you so kindly put," she paused.

"Yeah, so, there's thirty-five percent left." I have to help Fiona with maths a lot.

"All right, what else do you think about on a daily basis then?"

"Well, I'd say about thirty percent is dedicated to studies."

"Mmkay, and the last five percent?"

"Attractive males and other indulgent fantasies."

"Oooh, like who?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Actually, I would. Oh, wait, lemme guess- WOOD."

I forced myself to laugh, "You are just so clever, Fi."

"I know, I know."

"For your information, I did have a thing for Charlie Weasley."

"Did you really?"

"Yeah, but I'm over it. I've moved on, as they say."

Fiona rolled her eyes and flopped down on her bed, next to mine.

"You're a silly girl, Rue."

"Not any more so than you, dearest."

* * *

**Woah, second chapter. I hope you're enjoying things so far, and if you are, I'd love to hear about it- via ****review****. Now, everything you don't recognize from the Harry Potter universe is mine, but that which you do recognize is thanks to the brilliance of J.K. Rowling. Anyway, keep reading and please review! Yours.**


	4. Of Relationships and Rows

A week into my sixth year at Hogwarts. Woo, I've survived so far without injuring that blasted Davies and have managed to bother Macduff more than usual, seeing as we have quiet a few classes together, which was definitely nothing to be happy about, I assure you.

Either way, there was one thing to be very excited about: I was holding Quidditch tryouts in search of the newest additions to our precious and elite Quidditch team. Really, we were only in need of a chaser and a beater. Every other position was covered. Trust me, if we were allowed to have reserve teams, I would certainly let more people on our exquisite crew, and perhaps demote a few of the regular team members to the reserve... _Ahem_, Davies.

I'd posted a reminder on the board in the Common Room to remind anyone willing to try out, but I wasn't really counting on many hopefuls showing up that night. As it were, I _maybe_ have this reputation of being cutthroat and unsympathetic to those seeking a spot on the Quidditch team unless they have the determination to put up with my carping and judgmental nature.

But enough of that, I had yet to make it through the day! No sense in wasting thought on Quidditch tryouts when I had classes. Oh, wonderful day- my first class was Care of Magical Creatures. A class I had with Fiona, thankfully, and with my worst enemy: Wood. Sodding Wood.

Fiona and I made our way down the hill towards Hagrid's hut. She was blabbering on and on about some Hufflepuff fellow she thought was quiet attractive, but he was younger than her, so she didn't know if she should pursue him or not.

"Who're you talking about now?"

Fiona let out an exasperated sigh, "Cedric Diggory." She elaborated upon my expression, "The Hufflepuff Seeker."

"Oooh. Gotcha, mate."

"Can't believe you didn't know who I was talking about."

"Oi, I knew who you were talking about! I'm not an idiot! I was just teasing you," I lamely covered up. I tried not to make a point of acquainting myself with Hufflepuffs. They annoyed me.

"Well, O Brilliant One, what do you suggest I do?"

"'Bout what?" I asked, biting into the dark red apple I'd snatched from the Great Hall before we'd departed.

"Diggory!"

"Yeah?"

Fiona rolled her eyes, "What do you suppose I should do about him? Should I ask him to Hogsmeade?"

"Sure, why not?"

"You don't have any advice? No ridicules?"

"Well, I dunno. If ya fancy him and what have you, I'd say go for it. And, if he turns out to be a bloody Hufflepuff like I've always said any Hufflepuff is, then I can gloat about how right I am about sticking to your own house."

"Klaus didn't," she pointed out. "Anna's a Hufflepuff."

"She's different," I replied after some thought.

"Oh, is she now?"

I paused, "Well, no, not really. But he fancies her quite a bit, so I'll let it slide this one time. However, in your case, I say you ought to go after him, just for the sheer sport of it."

Fiona was shocked. It was rare that I ever gave relationships approval.

"Besides," I continued, "it'll be great fun for me to watch everything fall apart!"

* * *

"Wood and Von Straussburg."

I groaned as Hagrid announced partners. I had been praying I'd be with Fiona, as I usually was, but Hagrid decided to switch it up and put me and William Wallace in a group together to go exploring along the edge of the forest. I had the feeling he hadn't really planned a lesson for the day, but that was fine by me. Perhaps I could trail behind Fiona and her partner, some Slytherin girl, and just ignore Wood for the time being.

And, as usual, things never work out quite as I planned them. Sadly, I found myself walking along the Forbidden Forest's edge with the bloody Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, nowhere near Fiona and overall quite displeased, as you could surely guess.

"What're we supposed to be looking for?" I asked finally.

"Dunno, figured you'd have a clue, seeing as you are the Ravenclaw in this partnership."

"And what's that supposed to mean, eh?"

"Well, since you're the Ravenclaw, aren't you by nature expected to be a better student than the rest of us?"

"Yes, of course."

"And I figure that to mean you should pay more attention during instruction than I do."

"False!" I cried. I refuse to be defined by the Ravenclaw stereotype. Especially since the typical Ravenclaw most certainly didn't pay any more attention during classes than any other Hogwarts student.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. 'Sides, what would you know, Wood? You're just a bloody Gryffindor with very few Gryffindor friends," I huffed triumphantly.

He simply raised his eyebrows before turning his attention to the ground.

I groaned. It simply was no fun when he gave up mid-row.

"You're supposed to argue back," I nudged him.

"Maybe I don't feel like it."

"Maybe I do."

"Am I supposed to bend to your every whim then, Rue?"

I stopped dead in my tracks. _Rue_?

"What in the bloody hell, Wood!"

He stopped and turned around to face me, "What?"

"You _never_ call me Rue!"

"It's your name, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's my name, but you're not supposed to use it! You haven't called me 'Rue' since, erm, first year! _Before_ first year, even!"

"Fine then, would you rather I call you by some stereotypical name then?"

"I'd prefer it!" I snapped.

"Nazi."

"Scot!"

"Nazi."

"Banquo!"

"Nazi."

"Merlin dammit, Wood, you can't use the same name as an insult three times in a row!"

"Aye, I think I can."

I slid my hand over my face. This was completely useless.

We continued on.

"Haggis Boy," I muttered under my breath.

"Nazi."

* * *

Fiona and I slid into our traditional spots next to one another, and across from our dormitory mates, at dinner.

"So, anything interesting happen today, ladies?" Rosaline Thompson asked.

"Nothing out of the usual," Fiona replied. "More Rue maunder."

"Oh, c'mon!" I cried defensively.

Carolina Russell spoke up. "So, what's the big issue today that's got your knickers in a twist?"

"Guess," Fiona and Rosaline said simultaneously.

"Hmm," Carolina tapped her chin thoughtfully, "could it be Oliver?"

"I swear that boy has not so much brain as earwax!" I cried, exasperated.

"Oh, and on come the insults," Rosaline grumbled before putting a spoonful of soup into her mouth.

"It's true!"

As it were, none of my friends seemed to have much of a problem with the Scottish wart that was Oliver Wood. I was certain I wasn't the only one in the school who had a problem with him. I knew for a fact that none of the Slytherins liked him, Marcus Flint especially. I didn't particularly care for Flint, but we could be united in our hatred for Wood. Though it wouldn't happen, seeing as he's a Slytherin and all. But, nonetheless, it proves my point that I am not the only one who doesn't care much for William Wallace.

"I still think she fancies 'im," Fiona declared.

"I most certainly do not," I said passively, biting into the roll of bread in my hand.

"Why else would you go on about him all the time?"

"Maybe this is how you express your love: through a facade of hatred and discord!"

"Oh, that's bloody ridiculous, and you lot know it."

"Rue-Rue and Oliver sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G," Carolina sang loudly. So loudly, in fact, that a few Gryffindors turned around and glanced in our direction.

"Oh, shut it!" I sank in my seat.

"But I thought you didn't fancy 'im," Rosaline said, a smirk tugging the corners of her mouth upward.

"I don't!"

"That's not what I heard," a distinctively Scottish accent said from behind me.

Oh bloody hell.

* * *

**There ya go! Still liking it, I hope? That which you don't recognize from the Harry Potter universe is mine, but that which you do recognize is thanks to J.K. Rowling. Continue reading and ****please review****! Yours.**


	5. Of Hogsmeade Dates and Sassiness

I turned around in my seat, looking up to meet the twinkly dark eyes of Oliver Wood.

"Erm," I began.

"Want to go to Hogsmeade with me, then?"

Rose sputtered, Fiona began to choke on her food, Carolina's eyes widened, and I, being the ever smooth being that I am, gawked and stuttered, my mind racing to find a proper insult.

"Wood, I would rather spend a trip to Hogsmeade being accompanied by Professor Snape than someone such as yourself." Yes, Merlin dammit, Rue, you're good.

Wood simply cocked an eyebrow, "Really?"

"Yes," I replied hesitantly.

"Oh, well then," and with that he left, returning to the Gryffindor table.

Carolina turned around to face the rest of us, having watched Wood go back to his seat. She looked completely flabbergasted, "What in the bloody hell was that, Rue?"

Immediately, I was bombarded by the Spanish Inquisition.

"Did he just ask you to Hogsmeade?"

"Did you just tell him no?"

"Would you really prefer to go on a date with Snape?"

I sighed, "Girls, girls, girls..."

"What?" They all cried in unison.

"What is going on between you and Wood?" Fiona asked, leaning in closer to the center of the table. We all followed suit. Serious times call for serious girl talk at the dinner table, obviously.

"How should I know? You know how we were paired up in Magical Creatures? We didn't even have a proper row! And," I continued incredulously, "he called me 'Rue'!"

Utter silence. At least until Rose let out a rather unladylike bark of laughter, turning around quickly to face the Gryffindor table and crying out, "Oi, Wood! Atta boy, mate!"

She turned around laughing to herself when Wood gave her a thumbs-up in response whilst stuffing his face with Merlin knows what. I reached across the table and lightly smacked Rosaline on the cheek.

"Now, love, that was uncalled for."

"Oh, Rue, it's about time one of you gave in. I just figured it'd be you first."

"What are you going on about?" I inquired, turning back to my plate and spooning some mashed potatoes into my mouth.

Fiona smiled brightly, "Rue. My dearest, darling Rue. We all know that you and Oliver fancy each other," she paused. "Secretly, of course."

I snorted, "Hardly!"

* * *

A few weeks later, I found myself sneaking around the corridors with Fred and George Weasley, preying upon ickle little firsties and generally wreaking havoc.

"So," I began as we climbed the staircase, "are there any Gryffindor Quidditch try outs this year?"

"No," Fred replied.

"Why'd ya ask?" George stopped, turning to me.

"No reason," I shrugged nonchalantly.

"Our first match, however, is coming up," George supplied.

"So I've heard."

"Any brilliant plans that we should prepare ourselves for?"

"Perhaps."

The twins exchanged a look, "Oh, c'mon, Rue! You've got to tell us."

"No, it'll ruin the surprise!"

* * *

In my efforts to "focus" on my Ancient Runes assignment, I found I had become further distracted. The twins had upped my excitement for the upcoming Gryffindor v. Slytherin match in early November. True, it was about a month away, but this trick would require time and much dedication.

I sighed, turning to Carolina. She didn't look up from her Transfiguration essay, so I poked her with the tip of my quill.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"I have a question."

"Yeah, so?"

"I was hoping you might answer it."

"Lemme finish my sentence," she turned back to her work to finish what appeared to be a run-on sentence. I don't see why she even bothered. She knows she's rubbish at writing anyway.

"Right, so this question?"

"I was wondering..."

"Yeah?"

"How easy do Scots take offense to people poking fun at their cultural heritage?"

She stared at me before clearing her throat to answer, "How should I know?"

"Well, isn't your father Scottish?"

"Well, yeah-"

"So, how easy would he take offense to my Scottish-themed insults?"

"Fairly easily, I'd reckon. He gets rather uptight about that sort of stuff, you know."

"Would you say that I could apply the transitive property in this situation and say that all Scots would be fairly upset, then?"

"Well, I dunno," she paused thoughtfully before a look of horror graced her features. "Oh, no."

I furrowed my brow, "What?"

"You're planning something, aren't you?"

"What's it to you?" I cried, sweeping up my belongings in a very grandiose fashion and taking my leave. I hurried up to my dormitory, excited that tomorrow was a Friday.

* * *

The next morning I sidled into a seat, having just barely made it to Defense Against the Dark Arts in time. Thank Merlin, too, because Lockhart would surely find some reason to give me detention and have me answer his fan mail for him. Why that man receives so many perfumed, lavender-coloured letters is beyond me. I don't see the appeal, but blonds never really were my type.

Fiona let out a sigh as Professor Lockhart entered the room, along with the rest of the female students in my class. I rolled my eyes, joining the ranks of most of the males in the room.

I let my mind wander has Lockhart began recounting some splendid tale of one adventure or another, and my eyes, completely of their own volition, followed suit. Which is exactly why I found myself studying Oliver Wood, who sat in the row next to me with some other wanker Gryffindor of his year. I honestly couldn't tell you why certain thoughts began to cross my mind, such as how he looks when he's attempting to concentrate during class, or how his hair looked like he had just rolled out of bed, or how he was absentmindedly scratching the tip of his quill against the paper in his notebook.

Much to my surprise and embarrassment, he scanned the room and his eyes landed on me, having caught me in the act of staring at and studying him. No, I wasn't giving him the once over or anything, I was simply studying him. Like one would study notes or something like that. But more to my embarrassment, he winked before turning back to his parchment, dipping his quill in ink, and scratching something in his notebook.

It was a few minutes before a bit of paper landed in front of me. I turned my head to the Gryffindor across the aisle, holding the piece between my fingers and showing it to him. He pointed to Wood sitting next to him.

Out of sheer boredom, I unfolded it.

_Bored, are you? Me too._

I raised an eyebrow, looking up at Lockhart (who was ever oblivious), and then turning to Wood with a questioning look. He motioned that I should respond. I sighed before dipping my own quill in ink and quickly penning a response to his chickenscratch.

**Very bored, which is why I'm actually replying to this, mind you.**

Satisfied with my response and the pretentious appearance of my penmanship underneath his pathetic excuse for writing, I pulled out my wand and flicked the paper back over to Wood. A smirk appeared on his face as he read it, quickly inking the tip of his quill.

_Well, that's an improvement from the usual response I would get from you. Not so sassy when you're writing, I suppose. I think I prefer you this way, RVS._

I rolled my eyes, before I realised that Oliver Wood has just used the word "sassy." I had to stuff a few fingers in my mouth to keep from laughing, but once I gained control of myself, I wrote back.

**Oh, you don't like the "sassy" Rue, do you? Hmm, I suppose I'll just have to be sassier. Honestly, Wood, you're ridiculous. Stop pretending to be pleasant and go back to your regular, git-y self. Please.**

_Come on, Von Straussburg. I'm not pretending to be pleasant._

**Since when are you so earnest?**

_Dunno. How were Quidditch try outs?_

**Haven't had them yet. Holding them on Sunday afternoon, if you must know. And, no, you are not invited.**

**Why would I want to come watch your awful team anyway?**

_You'll pay for that. Now, I'm going to return to paying attention to the lecture, thank you very much._

To my annoyance, the bit of paper had once again returned to a place in front of me. Why couldn't Wood just leave the conversation alone? It isn't as though it was particularly stimulating in anyway.

_My Hogsmeade offer from a few weeks back is still on the table._

At that moment Fiona glanced over, saw the paper, and snatched it. I glared daggers at her as she read through it, a small smile forming on her lips. Evil witch. She grabbed her own quill, dipped it in ink and responded.

She would love to go with you, Oliver!

**No, Fiona, I most certainly would not desire spending a perfectly pleasant afternoon at Hogsmeade with Haggis Boy. Now, Wood, more of your conversation would infect my brain, so I really must bid you adieu.**

I glared at Fiona, but she returned to staring dreamily at Lockhart after giving me a wink and a pat on the shoulder.

* * *

"Wood asked her to Hogsmeade again," Fiona sang as we joined Carrie and Rose for lunch. I rolled my eyes, not particularly interested in the conversation bound to ensue.

"Ooooh," Rose cooed, "and what did you say, Rue?"

Carolina snorted, "Course she said no!"

"Indeed, I did!" I replied chirpily.

"I wonder why he's so suddenly interested, though," Rose said as she turned in her seat to watch him. She quickly added, "Not that I at all disagree with this budding romance."

"Dunno. Don't really care either," I said, downing some pumpkin juice.

"You should care," Fiona advised.

"Oh, come off it. I'm not interested in him. And damn him if he's interested in me! There are too many issues for me to even consider fancying that bloke."

"Yeah, like what?" Carolina asked.

"Well, first off, he's a Gryffindor. Secondly, he's Scottish-"

"Hey! I'm half Scotch, ya know," Carolina cried dramatically.

"Go on, then," Rosaline encouraged.

"Well, that's about it, really."

"That's it? You only have two reasons for not being interested in Oliver Wood."

"Yep," I replied.

"You're a right piece of work, Rue," Fiona shook her head.

I smiled brightly, "And yet you still love me!"

* * *

**Hey there, readers! It's been awhile, hasn't it? Sorry about that; it's difficult to do college work and keep up on fanfictions at the same time. Pity, eh? Oh well- the new movie has inspired me to hop to and get some chapters out for ya before the summer is over! So, be happy! Oh, and goodies to whoever can find the Shakespeare line. As always, that which you recognize from the series belongs to J.K. Rowling. That which you do not recognize likely comes from my crazy mind. And, also to keep up with tradition, please review because I love reviews, you love reviews- we all love reviews! Yours.**


	6. Of Monstrous Visages and Luuuurve

Brilliant. A Saturday. And not just _any_ Saturday, mind you. A Hogsmeade Saturday, also know as the best kind of Saturday there is!

It was bright and early as I bounced about the dormitory, readying myself for the day. Rosaline, Carolina, and Fiona were still sleeping, most likely because it was only 6.30 in the morning. Ah well, we can't all be morning people!

I, on the other hand, was completely dressed for the exciting Hogsmeade excursion and had just finished my makeup before I bounded down the stairs, straight through the common room, and out the door. Early risers get to explore the castle. Or, as it was in my case, make a quick dash to the kitchens, thus avoiding the lazy "morning rush" of Saturday breakfasts to the dining hall.

After tickling the pear, I moved into the kitchens, grabbing an apple before checking what else the house elves had prepared for the morning. I nearly tripped over one, who squealed in fear and quickly ducked away. Rather clumsy of me, I know, but it's not my fault that they're a fair amount shorter than the rest of us. Well, comparatively, of course. I quickly snatched up a roll and was on my merry way, this time looking to the ground as I left. To nearly trip once is bad enough, but a second time would be too much, ever for me.

And, as luck would have it, I collided with a very solid someone upon exiting the kitchens. They stumbled backwards, and, I suppose in an attempt to steady themselves, grabbed on to me. Well, it goes without saying that we soon found ourselves on the floor in a very compromising situation. I had lost my apple and roll in the process, both a ways down the corridor. I looked sadly after them, before turning my attention to whichever Hogwarts male I was straddling.

"Wood!" I cried in disgust, scurrying backwards and off of him.

"Rue, I was actually-"

I cut him off, "I've, erm, got somewhere to be."

"At seven in the morning?"

"Well, yeah. Clearly. I'm an important person. I do important things. Sometimes those things are scheduled at seven in the morning." I adjusted the sleeves of my blouse in a very matter-of-fact fashion.

He raised an eyebrow, "I honestly doubt that." He pushed himself up off the floor, before crossing the distance between us and offering me his hand. I scowled at his outstretched hand but took it, being pulled to my feet by my sworn enemy. Pathetic, Rue. Truly, truly pathetic.

"Do you doubt my importance, Wood?"

"I didn't mean it that way. I'm sure you're a very important person," he paused. "Well, at least in your own mind you are."

Again, I scowled at his remark, picking up my apple and roll.

I turned to him after checking over my precious foodstuffs, "Can't you find a blasted hole in this castle dark enough to hide your monstrous visage?"

"Could say the same to you."

"Scottish prick."

No response.

"Merlin's trousers, Wood, at least _try_ to insult me back!"

He raised his eyebrows at that. "Why should I bother? It seems to anger you more when I don't."

"Oh, I get it. You're bitter because I've twice turned down your Hogsmeade offer."

"Hm, that's an interesting observation."

"Well, what else would you be so ill-disposed about?"

"I have a life beyond you," he said.

It was my turn to raise my eyebrows, "Oho! Is that so? Why're you skulking around then?"

"I'm definitely not 'skulking.'"

"Hmmm, I think you are."

Again, no response.

I huffed, "Well, I really must be going, as lovely as your company is." I turned and proceeded down the corridor. I faltered, though, when Wood called out my name. Quickly recovering, I continued on my way.

"Why won't you go to Hogsmeade with me?" He called after me.

"To put it simply," I called back, rounding the corner to an adjacent corridor, "it's because you're you!"

* * *

After wandering about the castle for an hour or two, I entered the common room, having completely forgotten my awkward moment with Wood outside the kitchens. You know, the one where I was straddling him... Which is quite inappropriate. I would never straddle a fellow such as Wood. I could do better. But why bother thinking of such things? Nothing of the kind happened with him. The only thing that happened was me verbally abusing the bloke. And it was quite entertaining, indeed.

"Where've you been that's got you so chipper?" Fiona asked as I flopped next to her on a sofa.

"Insulting Wood _always_ puts me in a chipper mood. You know that."

"Ah. Did he ask you to Hogsmeade again?"

"Surprisingly, no. He did, however, ask why I turned him down."

"And why's that?"

"Because he's him. Obviously."

"Too good for Wood?"

I smirked, "You ought to be a poet, Fi."

"Hush up, twat. I don't see what your tiff is with that boy. He's never done anything to you."

"Yes, he most certainly has! Before we were even sorted, way back when, he said I couldn't play Quidditch because I was a girl! Well, showed 'im, didn't I? And then, when I made the team in second year, he insisted on flicking balled-up pieces of parchment at me all throughout History of Magic the _entire_ year," I took a deep breath before continuing. "Then there was third year, when he blamed me for his absolute failure of a first match of Quidditch, as though it were my fault he injured himself. He had the whole Gryffindor Quidditch team on my case for months! And then fourth year, he-"

"Rue recounting why she hates Wood so much?" Rose asked, taking a seat in an armchair.

"Yes."

"Listening?"

"Nope."

"Fine, then!" I cried. "Some mates you lot are! I have good reasons for disliking the bloke, and that's that."

"Oi, sibling!" I looked up, my brother approaching my little group of friends.

"Yeah?"

"Come with me."

"Why?"

"Just do. Please?"

"Fine," I sighed, dragging myself from my comfortable location on the couch. "I'll see you all later, yeah? If I'm not back, just meet at the Broomsticks. Usual table."

"Yep, see you."

* * *

I followed Klaus to the Great Hall, where we met up with Anna.

"Hullo," I smiled pleasantly.

"Morning!"

"So, Klaus, why'd you need me?"

"Figured we should catch up."

"Lovely."

We sat at the Hufflepuff table with Anna, my brother proceeding to heap as much onto his plate as possible. I made a face, completely disgusted by the ordeal.

"Fo, hore fings?" Klaus asked, after stuffing a forkful into his mouth.

"Erm," I looked at Anna who just shrugged, munching happily on her cereal. "Well, things have been good."

"Heah?"

"Klaus, please don't talk with your mouth full of food. It's disgusting. And a bit difficult to understand, I must say."

He swallowed, "Fine, fine. Well, what's this about you having postponed Quidditch tryouts till tomorrow?"

"Eh, our first game isn't until January. Plus, I figured I'd let people settle into their classes."

"You mean, you knew Wood got word when you were having the tryouts and you were terrified he might try to sabotage it like you did to him last year."

"Well, yeah, that too."

"You know he knows, though, right?"

"Yes, I know," I furrowed my brow. "I can't put it off any longer, though. I want to start practicing. And Flitwick's a bit put off by my reluctance to have to tolerate the second and third years who try out. He thinks it's elitist of me," I huffed.

"Well, it is. But, I can see why you don't little ones on the team. _Although_, you were let on the team as a second year."

"Not my fault that I'm talented."

"Ha, that's what you call it?"

I rolled my eyes. Klaus stuck his tongue out at me before shoveling some bacon into his mouth. I sneered and looked away. My brother could be so disgusting to watch.

"So," Anna spoke up. "What's this I've heard about you and Wood?"

"What?" I looked at her, surprised.

"I've heard around that you two have been almost friendly. And that he's asked you to Hogsmeade a few times."

"Yeah, he's barking."

"I don't understand," Anna said slowly. Of course you don't, Hufflepuff.

"I'm not interested in him."

"I fought oo vere?" Klaus asked, looking up from his plate.

"Shut _up_, Klaus. You are so disgusting!"

"Forry."

"Anyway," Anna cleared her throat, "you were saying?"

"Oh, right. Well, I'm completely disinterested in the bloke. Not my type. Haven't quite lowered myself to accepting the standards of wankers."

"Hm, what if he fancied you, though?"

"Which he doesn't. And, if he does, he's barmy and should be promptly sent to Saint Mungo's to be checked out."

"That's just what I've heard."

"From who?"

"Just... people. Some Gryffindors. And others."

"Well, don't believe it. Because I don't. I think he's just trying to be a prick."

"Why don't you just give him a chance?"

"He's a Gryffindor. And he's Scottish. And he's, well..."

Klaus swallowed before triumphantly finishing my statement for me, "He's Wood! That's why she won't give him a chance!"

Klaus brandished his fork. I raised my eyebrow at him.

* * *

I hurried to the carriages, having finally separated myself from the two lovebirds of luuuuurve. Disgusting, really. I hoped I never looked so foolish.

"Oi, wait up!" I cried, having seen Carolina climbing into a carriage.

I hurried, quickly hopping inside and pulling the door closed, "Onward to Hogsmeade!"

My mates laughed.

"So," Rose began, "what was that about?"

"They were asking me about Wood. Why is everyone asking me about that boy? I don't understand it! And, to put it mildly, it's infinitely frustrating."

"Perhaps because you are meant to be with the bloke!" Carrie interjected.

"Doubtful," I muttered grimly, shooting a death glare her way.

She shrugged.

"Well, it's a thought," Fiona said simply. "I mean, you two really would be good together."

"Ha! I could do much better. Plus, I can't date someone who I dislike so thoroughly. Otherwise I wouldn't be able to pull pranks on him, and all the planning I've started for the Gryffindor match against Slytherin will have been such a waste!"

"You're planning something?" Rose asked curiously.

"I knew it!" Carrie cried happily.

Rose regarded Carrie with a strange look, before turning back to me. "Is it going to be as brilliant as last year's sporking of the Quidditch pitch?"

"Actually, it was forking. But, it's going to be much more better. Why, you ask yourselves? Because I'm going to get the entire Ravenclaw Quidditch team in on it."

"Oh, can't wait for it then!" Rose smiled. "Sounds like something to go down in the history books!"

* * *

**Hullo! I've updated. Happiness? Yes. Well, firstly, thanks to those who reviewed... Three people, maybe? **_**Please review**_**- I'm begging of you. And, if you're reading this and enjoying it, tell others about it! I think Rue is just as lovable as Lizzie (for those who know who I'm talking about). Anyway, I don't own the Harry Potter Universe- JK Rowling does. I own that which you do not recognize from the series. And I threw in a little tribute to my favorite Captain Jack Sparrow at the end. Look out for the next chapter. So, wotcher! Yours.**


	7. Of Hand Holding and Quidditch Try Outs

A trip to Hogsmeade can be judged by three factors. If a trip fulfills all three categories, then the trip is deemed successful. If it meets less than three, it's a failure. So, given data on the subject says that a trip to Hogsmeade will be successful 1:4.

The first factor: sit at Our Table at The Three Broomsticks and enjoy butterbeers for at least an hour and a half. The time minimum is important, because if it isn't met, even if just by a minute, the trip fails.

Factor number two: a trip to Zonko's with the Weasley twins. And only the Weasley twins! Fiona, Carolina, and Rosaline just dampen the mood whenever they enter Hogsmeade's joke shop. However, the Weasley twins know how to have a good time in there. As do I. Also, it is strongly encouraged to try out some of the tricks on unsuspecting Slytherins or third years. Just adds to the fun, you know?

And, finally, the third factor: Avoid Wood. Simple enough, I think, but it would prove to be rather difficult when your mates insist on bring the bloke up in conversation at all hours of the day and whatnot. However, avoiding him is definitely a bit more manageable than avoiding the mention of him.

Sadly, though, this Hogsmeade trip did not meet all three requirements for a successful excursion. Three Broomsticks tradition, check. Zonko's with the twins, check. Avoid Wood, fail. And that is a resounding, absolute fail. There's nothing that could fix that. I suppose I could've lived without getting our favorite table and enjoying butterbeer for three hours. I suppose it could have been bearable going to Zonko's by myself. But there is absolutely no excuse in this entire world that would make the "avoid Wood" rule allowed to be broken.

After having spent about an hour and a half in Zonko's with my dearest, most beloved Weasley twins, we left, bags on our arms full of lovely things that would hold us over until the next Hogsmeade trip in a month. We laughed about something or another, but my laugh faltered when I looked up to find Oliver sodding Wood standing in front of me, a rather displeased look on his face.

"Hullo, Oliver!" Fred chirped happily. Apparently his mood wasn't ruined by the bloke.

"Can we, er, help you with something?" George asked hesitantly, looking between me and Oliver.

"Actually, I was wondering if I could borrow Rüdiger for a moment."

"_Of course_, you can, oh dearest Quidditch Captain of ours!" Fred cried, pushing me towards Wood. I stumbled forward, almost losing my balance and falling over until Wood grabbed my arm and straightened me.

"Thanks!" He smiled finally, dragging me off.

I craned my neck, sending a glare at two very sheepish-looking Weasleys.

I wasn't sure where we were going, and I made sure Wood was aware of my displeasure about the situation the entire way. Suddenly, he just stopped.

"What in the bloody hell, Wood? Why do you _insist_ upon making my first Hogsmeade trip a failure? Great way to start off the year, mate! You are so going to regret this-"

"Rue, shut it. I just wanted to let you know I heard the Slytherins talking," he trailed off.

"Yeah, so?"

"Mmm," he paused and looked around, rocking back and forth slightly. "Well, it seems that they might be planning to sabotage your try outs tomorrow."

"Is that so? You sure you aren't the one who is going to sabotage my try outs?"

"Rue, honestly, I don't know what more convincing you need, but I-"

"Stop calling me 'Rue'," I said slowly. "I am not your _chum_, Wood."

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged, "You're difficult. But, if you don't want to believe me..."

"Fine!" I threw my arms up in exasperation. "What exactly did you overhear?"

"Oh, but you don't want to hear it from me. I'm not your 'chum', remember?"

"Merlin, Wood! Fine, fine! How 'bout this: for the next five minutes, I trust you wholly. Say whatever you want so long as it pertains, in some manner, to Quidditch. Circle of Trust, yeah? So, out with it!" I looked up at him expectantly and, I can't explain why, but I found myself wondering momentarily about a different circumstance in which he would maybe be leaning down towards me to… My thoughts were interrupted.

"Well, they were going to hex a few people, maybe you."

"Is that it? I think I can handle a few hexes; I've had my fair share of them."

"Right, well," he paused, looking up at the sky.

I blinked a few times, still unsure why I had even been thinking about him like that a few seconds ago. Perhaps he wanted to say something else.

He sighed, "I just want to be sure you're safe."

His eyes locked with mine.

I let out a snort.

"I'm serious."

"Sure, sure. Well, ta-ta then. Lovely chatting with you," I turned and was about to make a mad dash back to the main path before a warm hand gently wrapped around my own. I turned back to face him, confused by the gesture.

He just searched my eyes and gave my hand a soft squeeze before letting it go.

I huffed, continuing on my merry way.

* * *

"He _what_?" Carrie cried loudly as we sat at the Ravenclaw table, dinner sitting on our plates.

Fiona perked up, staring across the room to the Gryffindor table while Rose and Carrie whipped around in their seats to get a better look at the boy in question.

"You mean to say that Haggis Boy held your hand, and you just let him?" Rosaline asked carefully, looking up at me with her eyebrows knit.

"And you, _maybe_, wondered if he wanted to say something else to you?"

"And that, _perhaps_, you were thinking he might lean down and kiss you right then and there?" Fiona asked quietly.

"Oh, hardly! I'm just saying it was slightly awkward and I was curious, is all."

All three looked back at me, doubt evident in their eyes. Silence.

And then, in a flurry of motion, Fiona was singing a muggle song in the wrong key, Carrie was giggling madly, and Rose had jumped up from her seat and was walking, in a very determined fashion, towards the Gryffindor table and Oliver Wood.

"L IS FOR THE WAY YOU LOOK AT ME,"

Carrie continued for Fiona, "O IS FOR THE ONLY ONE I SEE,"

Other Ravenclaws began turning their heads and looking down the table at us. I felt myself sinking in my seat and my cheeks flushing to a color that surely matched my hair. How utterly embarrassing. And, of course, the embarrassment didn't stop.

Fiona and Carolina were now singing in tandem, "V IS VERY, VERY... _EXTRA_ORDINARY, E IS EVEN MORE THAN ANYONE THAT YOU ADORE, aaaaand..."

I buried my face in my hands. A few professors were now watching the spectacle and, when I did look up, Rose was returning to the table, Wood in tow.

Oh bloody hell. I jumped up from my seat and ran. I had no idea what Rose had planned, but I wasn't about to let it happen in front of the entire school.

* * *

I woke up the next morning, rather groggy. I nearly fell on the floor as I tried to get out of bed. As I washed my face in the sink, I realised that today was indeed the day of my Quidditch team try outs. With a loud _whoop!_, I skipped back into the dormitory, rushing to pull out my practice robes. I had rescheduled the try outs, yet again, to take place in the morning in order to further weed out young students seeking a spot that I would never give them. Unless I was completely amazed by one of them. ... Unlikely.

Fiona groaned and rolled over to her side, mumbling about it being too early for Bubbly Rue-Rue. I marched over to the side of her bed and poked her cheek. "Up, up, dearest! We have Quidditch try outs to tend to in a few hours!" I looked at my watch. "Breakfast awaits!"

I quickly changed into my robes before bounding down the steps, banging on the doors of the fifth year and fourth year girls' doors. Upon reaching the landing that separated the girls' dormitories from the boys', I made the decision to run up the blokes' staircase too and wake them up. It's a Sunday. And, better yet, a Quidditch Sunday. The team needs to be excited!

Snickering at my work, I hurried down to the Great Hall, my stomach gurgling for foodstuffs. Klaus was already up, his hair askew. Damn my brother for looking so haphazardly attractive. Why couldn't I be so lucky? I sighed as I plopped unceremoniously down into the seat across from him. "Morning, brother mine!"

"Good morning, Rue," he smiled.

We ate quietly for a time, content with the sound of crunching cereal.

"So, what was that about yesterday?"

"Whaddya mean?" I asked, a confused look on my face.

"Well, with the singing and then Wood coming over to the table and you running faster than I've ever seen you run before. It was completely impressive, but still... Is there something going on? You know you can talk to me about it," Klaus finished hesitantly.

I groaned, setting my spoon against the edge of my bowl, "Klaus, there's nothing going on. Wood's just... He's... I don't know. It seems he's either A) toying with me or B) is sincerely interested in becoming, at the very least, my friend. I don't know if it's just for a bet or something- it could be, for all I know! But, I just-"

Klaus interrupted, "Well, I think, if it's the latter, you really ought to just let him do his thing. And by latter, I mean that he wants to be your friend. What's so bad in having a friend, hmm? Sure, he might be a Scottish Gryffindor, but he seems like a perfectly decent bloke."

Every now and then, my brother astonishes me. This? Definitely one of those times.

"And there aren't many blokes 'round here that I would say are decent enough for my little sister, even though she may be a _dumkopf_ sometimes," he smiled cheekily.

I rolled my eyes, "Thanks, I guess."

"Well, I best be going. Looks like your boyfriend just came in, and I've got to go dote on my dear Anna!"

"And you call me the '_dumkopf_'!" I called after him, but he had already made it to the corridor. I huffed, returning to my cereal.

It would have been a perfectly pleasant meal until a shadow came over me and my breakfast. I looked up to see Wood standing before me. He looked around the Great Hall before asking in a low voice, "Mind if I join you?"

I shrugged. I give up. Apparently he's just not having whatever I dish out. Wanker.

He grabbed some toast, putting it on the fresh plate that had appeared after Klaus had left. Wood, however, didn't touch the food.

"Look, I just wanted to offer some help with your try outs this morning," he said, his knife in his left hand and his right arm resting against the table, as if it were reaching out for me.

I raised an eyebrow, "What kind of help?"

"Well, I was thinking that I could convince some of the Gryffindor team to go as backup protection against whatever the Slytherins may be planning. That way, you won't have to be on the defensive the whole time."

I regarded him, my eyebrows knit together.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked harshly.

"Well, I just figured I'd offer you some help."

"You want something don't you?"

He shrugged, "Let's just say you'll owe me one."

I groaned inwardly before giving in, "Fine. Just don't be a distraction!"

He smiled. Damn that smile.

* * *

Try outs, though I hated to admit it, went rather smoothly. Fred and George said that Wood had offered to let those who came out of two practices of their choice for the next three weeks, so a handful of the team decided it was worth it.

The Slytherins did try to throw a few hexes here and there, but, for the most part, they were kept at bay. I just wished that Katie Bell hadn't blocked a curse that was aimed at Davies.

After discussing with the other members of the team, I announced to all those who tried out that results would be posted tomorrow morning before breakfast. "Thanks to everyone who tried out! Go enjoy the rest of your day. If you made the team, we have the pitch booked for Tuesday night." And, with that, the group dispersed.

"You should thank him," Fiona said quietly as she moved past me to return to the castle with the rest of the team.

"Yeah, I guess."

I approached him hesitantly; it seemed he was expecting me to talk to him afterwards. Pompous Macduff. I stood before him, rubbing the back of my neck and refusing to make eye contact.

"I just wanted to say, erm," I cleared my throat. "I just wanted to say thanks, ya know, for, er, that. It was... huh," I bit my lip, "helpful."

He laughed, "No problem. Just remember you owe me."

I looked up at him suspiciously, "Right."

And with that, I turned on my heel and hurried after Fiona.

**

* * *

Finally, right? I'm sorry it's been so long. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. I made it extra long to (hopefully) make up for the past few months. I will definitely do anything within my power to get another update or two out in the next week. I am determined! Anyways, the world of Harry Potter belongs to Jo Rowling who is far more brilliant than I could ever hope to be as far as writing goes. A warm "holla" to my new beta, WHASHMACKITY, who is, quite literally, the shiznit. Right, well, **_**PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW**_**!Yours.**


	8. Of Nightmares and Note Passing

"So, how were try outs, then?" Rosaline asked casually, biting into her roll.

"Eh, you know. The usual," I started.

However, Fiona felt that she should cut me off, "Wood and some of the Gryffindors hung around to ward off the Slytherins, can you believe it?"

Carolina's eyes widened, "You don't say? Did Frauline Captain approve of this?"

"Actually, I did. Because I'd rather judge the qualities of potential players than worry about some Slytherin hexing my arse."

"Interesting development," Rose commented. Fi and Carrie nodded in agreement.

"Oh, honestly, you three. I gained from it, and that's the only reason I agreed to it in the first place. 'Sides, he'll probably ask the same of me sometime. He said," I lowered my voice for effect, "I owe him."

'Ooos' and 'aaaahs' came from my mates.

"What d'you figure that means, eh?" Fiona asked. I rolled my eyes.

"I think it means he fancies a snog."

"A snog and some fondling."

"Actually, I believe he intended to shag me in the Gryffindor changing rooms, however we have yet to settle on a time that is mutually acceptable," I interjected.

"Oh, yeah, course," Rose snorted sarcastically.

I smirked, "Hey, it was going there."

Carolina huffed, "Why do you always spoil our fun, Rue?"

* * *

The rest of the day I spent with the Weasley twins, lounging in the courtyard. We passed the time casually discussing various ways to get some potentially banned items onto campus and flicking small stones at little firsties passing by. All was well and good until they felt the need to ask me about the next trip to Hogsmeade. I rolled my eyes, something I found myself doing an awful lot that day.

"Why are you already asking me about Hogsmeade? It's, what, a month away? I don't plan that far ahead unless it's some madly brilliant scheme to sabotage your Quidditch practices or something."

"Right, right," Fred said. "Like that one time you forked the Quidditch pitch? Wood was furious."

"Yeah, back when he couldn't stand me," I sighed. "Good times, my dears, good times."

"Last I checked, times _are_ still good. Why are you so hung up on Oliver's change in mood?"

"Hmm, shall I count the ways?" I laughed. My knowledge of muggle poetry references astounds me sometimes.

"Rue, maybe he's seen the light!" George cried dramatically, holding his hand over his heart. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Yes," Fred continued. "He's realized just how bloody gorgeous and devious you are and finds he absolutely cannot resist you any longer!"

I threw my arms around their shoulders. "Merlin knows the only men I need in my life are you two!" And I then proceeded to mussy their hair.

"And you, Rue dearest, are the only woman we need in our lives!" Fred cried happily as George squirmed away.

"Well, 'cept your mum. I think you'd need her."

"Sorta."

"Kinda."

"Not really," I finished for them, chuckling.

"So, Rue, sorry that we let Oliver waltz off with you," George started, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yes, yes, quite sorry," Fred continued.

I shrugged, "Yeah, yeah, I know."

"But we were hoping maybe you'd get a nice snog out of it or something, you know?"

"We only had your best interests at heart, y'see."

"Right," I huffed.

"Listen, Rue, what's really so bad about him?"

"You two really are quite similar."

"The only thing that you don't have in common-"

"Is that you hate him while he-"

"That's quite enough," I stood, brushing off my trousers. "I've got to go do some Ancient Runes work, so I'll see you around, yeah?"

I turned before they could say anything more.

* * *

The next morning I awoke to a loud muggle song being blasted from some damned radio contraption that Rose had bewitched last night.

"What the hell is this?" I groaned.

"Whaddya mean?" Rose called, poking her head out from the loo.

"I think she wants to know why we aren't playing her favorite muggle music!"

"No, actually, Fi, I wanted to know why I'm not still asleep," I glanced at my watch, "at six in the morning!"

"Oh, er, that too." Fiona continued to rummage through her trunk.

I sat up, my blankets pooling in my lap. I sighed and ran my fingers through my tangled auburn waves. Carolina was buried under her sheets, still asleep I assumed, and I found myself completely jealous of her.

I groaned and flopped back into my pillows, pulling my plush owl into my chest. I sniffed and attempted to tune out whatever was on the radio. I let my mind wander back to the dream I had been so rudely awakened from. Images flashed. Quidditch. I smiled to myself. Oh, how I loved Quidditch.

No, I hadn't dreamt about Quidditch. I'd dreamt of flying. But not on my own Nimbus 2001. I had my arms around a very solid someone's waist, and I was pressing my cheek against their shoulder. It had been... _pleasant_. And then I remembered, much to my horror who I had been riding the broomstick with.

I dismounted when we landed on the lush green grass and turned to find myself face-to-chest with a sickeningly familiar torso. My eyes slid up to confirm who I had thought it was: Oliver Wood. My stomach dropped, however, my dream self seemed quite pleased to be looking up into the Scot's face. And then... Then we...

"RUE!"

"What?!" I sat up, suddenly coming face-to-face with Fiona.

"C'mon, class starts in fifteen minutes!"

"_What_?!" I cried, rolling out of bed and pushing past her, snatching my uniform and running into the loo. "I missed breakfast?" I called to her.

"Yeah, sadly. I grabbed a piece of toast for you, though."

I buttoned my skirt and hurried back to my bed, pulling my shoes out from under it and onto my feet. I snatched my wand from my nightstand, pulled my bag over my shoulder, and followed Fiona out of the dormitory.

* * *

We barely made it into Transfiguration. Fiona and I looked for Carrie and Rose and found them looking back at us apologetically. They had been unable to save us spots and, from the looks of it, there were two seats left: one by Wood, and one by some Hufflepuff who I remembered Fiona having a thing for in third year.

I turned to Fiona, about to ask if she'd mind sitting by Wood, only to see that she was making a beeline for the Hufflepuff. I groaned and slid into the seat next to Wood. Bloody Macduff.

I was earnestly trying to pay attention and take some decent notes, which was somewhat out of the norm for me. However, my attention to whatever McGonagall faltered when a bit of parchment was slid onto my notebook.

_About that favour you now owe me..._

I groaned inwardly before dipping my quill into ink and scratching a quick reply.

_**What of it?**_

_Well, I was wondering if you'd go with me to Hogsmeade next month._

_**Bloody hell, Wood, that's a sodding month away.**_

_I figured I'd call it in early before you had a chance to back out of it. Rather brilliant of myself, I must say._

_**Rather full of yourself, aren't you? Well, I was thinking of going with the Weasley twins, actually. They asked me yesterday, you see.**_

_They told me that you had turned down their invitation, as it were._

_**Those buggers... Well... Er.**_

_That's not a word. ... Unless it's German for something. Translation?_

_**Oh, for Merlin's sake, Wood! Can't you call in the favour at some other time, for some other thing? Say I was planning something utterly brilliant and embarrassing for your first match- you could use it to ensure I don't do such a thing!**_

_I think I can manage. Please?_

_**Honestly, Wood!**_

_Is that a 'yes', then?_

_**Ach du lieber!**_

_Excellent. It's a date, then!_

_**No, it most certainly is not!**_

_Then it's a favour._

I glared at Wood's hand as his slid the parchment just out of my reach. I huffed and then turned my attention back to McGonagall.

What had I gotten myself in to?

* * *

**Ladeeda. And there's an update! I'm proud of myself. I am going to try to update this more frequently. The creative juices are flowing, and I really need a distraction from the impending doom date of April 1****st**** (aka the day I hear back from all my prospective colleges). So, yea. Obviously, the **_**Harry Potter**_** Universe belongs to the fabulous J.K. Rowling, and that which you do not recognize belongs to me. Shout out a friend who beta'd this for me, as my usual beta couldn't at the time. Anyway, **_**please, oh, please, oh, PLEASE review**_**! You know you want to. Humbly yours.**


	9. Of Favour Dates and Dream Interpretation

Class was dismissed, and I hurriedly gathered my things, shoved them into my bag, and sped towards the door, hoping to avoid Wood.

As it were, avoiding him was not meant to be. I was just about to descend down the stairway when a hand wrapped around my upper arm and held me back. I let out a huff before slowly turning and glaring up into Macduff's proud face.

"Yes?"

"So, Rue, we're going to Hogsmeade together, correct?" He announced loudly, causing many heads to turn in our direction. I felt the color drain from my face. He had decided to announce it in front of witnesses so that I wouldn't be able to back out. Wanker.

I grit my teeth and said lowly, "Classy, Wood, really classy."

He smirked and released my arm. I promptly hurried down the stairs to Defense Against the Dark Arts, fuming the entire way.

* * *

"Mind yourself! Angry German Nazi coming through!" Rose bellowed as we made our way down the corridor to the Great Hall. To say the least, the day had been bloody awful as it seemed that Wood's declaration of asking me to Hogsmeade and my apparent acceptance had spread about the school faster than the news that Harry Potter was a new student last fall. And once everyone knows something that seems slightly amiss and bonkers, they just have to ask about it.

The more people asked, the more upset I got, which is exactly why first years who hadn't moved out of my way were literally being pushed aside. I barreled through a rather large group of Hufflepuff fourth years, much to my own amusement, before taking a seat at the Ravenclaw table. I angrily stabbed my fork into a cut of chicken and placed it on my plate. Fiona, Rosaline, and Carolina were silent and watched me with faces that were torn between amusement and worry.

A second year passed by slowly, curiously observing me.

"Wha're you wookin' aah?" I snapped loudly, talking around the food in my mouth.

The little kid squeaked and hurried further down the table.

"Rue?" Fiona asked after some time, breaking the unusual silence that had fallen over our group.

I grunted in response.

"That was attractive," Rose snorted.

"Look, Rue," Fiona said, leaning across the table. "We all know this is, er, hard for you, you know, accepting that you're, ah, how would you say it?" She looked to our companions.

"Going on a date with your worst enemy?" Carrie supplied.

"Right, right," Fiona nodded in agreement. "Your very attractive, dashing, well-built worst enemy."

I rolled my eyes. "Not helping, Fi."

A wry smile tugged on her lips.

"Rue, darling, this is not the worst thing that could possibly happen to you, you know. You could be going to next month's Hogsmeade with Flint. Now, that wouldn't be good, would it?" Rose laughed.

I shrugged nonchalantly as I sipped my pumpkin juice.

"We'll let you mope the rest of the day, but we want our Rue back tomorrow," Carrie paused before finishing lamely. "Please?"

"Fine, fine," I grumbled before digging my fork into the mashed potatoes.

* * *

A week passed and I had more dreams, most of which were vague. However, on a particular Saturday night, I had had a rather barmy and vivid dream that made me want to gouge my eyes out with my wand. I stood under the hot pelting of the shower the following Sunday morning, and I mulled over the damn thing.

It wasn't at all like the other dream, the first dream, where I was flying with Oliver. This time I lounging on the grass near the lake, minding my own business as the real me would. However, Dream Rue rolled over to come face-to-face with Wood, who was laying beside her with his arms behind his head. His head slowly turned to meet Dream Rue's, a goofy smile on his face, before he sat up and nudged her onto her back again. He hovered over her for awhile, searching her eyes for something. Dream Rue grabbed him by the loose tie hanging around his neck and pulled him down. What followed was a rather steamy snogging session that made me quite uncomfortable to think about, and not in the good way. It made me uncomfortable in the "Oh sweet Merlin, I want to spill the contents of my stomach" kind of way.

Either way, as I stepped out of the shower, I came to the conclusion that Dream Rue had indeed lost it, what with the strange affinity for a certain rival Quidditch captain and whatnot. Utterly disgusting.

As I pulled a pair of trousers on, I decided that I needed to prevent any such thing from ever happening in reality. I would convince myself that I fancied some person, and I would confront Wood immediately.

* * *

I marched to the Quidditch pitch, climbed into the stands, and waited. He noticed me surprisingly quickly, as if he had been expecting me since the start of practice, and flew over. He ungracefully dismounted his broom, and I couldn't help but snort at the spectacle.

"Falling all over yourself for me, eh?"

His cheeks flushed. "Bit early in the morning for flirting, isn't it?" He finally shot back, running a hand through his windswept hair.

I squinted my eyes in what I hoped was a threatening manner before clearing my throat. "I have come to inform you that I have completed my scheming for the sabotage of your first Quidditch match at the start of next month. And, if I do say so myself, it is most devious and wicked."

Oliver raised his eyebrows. "So?"

"'_So_'? Are you bloody serious? I have made an evil plot that will surely make you lose your first match, against Slytherin of all houses, and all you have to say is 'so'?"

He nodded.

I stood there, completely dumbfounded. While it was true that I had completed my scheming for Operation: Distract the Scot, it wasn't necessarily true that it would contribute greatly to Gryffindor losing the match, just in distracting Wood for a good part of the game.

"Oh, I see what you're trying to do," he said finally, something having clicked in his mind. "You're trying to get me to call off the date and change the favour to you holding off on this legendary prank, right? Well, I'm terribly sorry to disappoint you, _Rue_," he said, mounting his broomstick once again, "but I'm not un-asking you out that easily, especially when our favour-date is only one week away!"

And with a wink, he took off, and I was left in the stands.

* * *

"Oy, where were you this morning?" Rose hissed as I sat down next to her in the library, pulling out my textbook for a Potions essay.

"At the Gryffindor Quidditch practice," I murmured quietly, glancing in Pince's direction to be sure she wasn't listening.

"Erm, why, might I ask?"

"Tried to convince Wood to 'un-ask' me out, as he so brilliantly put it."

I dipped my peacock feather quill into the inkwell and began scratching away on the parchment.

"Oh, and how'd that go for you?"

"Guess."

"Miserably?"

I nodded my head in affirmation. Rose sighed, turning the page of her Arithmancy textbook.

"You know, it probably won't be that bad at all, Rue. Oliver's a good bloke. He'll show you a great time, I'm sure."

I shrugged, "Yeah, I s'pose."

We worked in silence for the better part of an hour before I decided that conversation needed to happen.

"Hey, Rose?" I whispered.

"Yep." She didn't look up from her book.

"So, I've been having these barmy dreams lately, and I know you're into dream interpretation and stuff, and I was wondering if you could, ah, clue me in and, er, whatnot," I said hesitantly.

"Sure." She turned a page and continued reading. "Go ahead whenever you're ready."

"Well, you see, they're about, uh, Wood," I bit my lip. "Oliver Wood."

Rose's eyes finally met mine. "Do tell."

* * *

**And there, my dears, is a long-awaited update! I actually have half of the next chapter already written, and another full chapter (that you should expect shortly) completely written! I hope this was entertaining, despite the fact that it is shorter than all the other chapters. I felt that it just naturally ended where it did. Anyway, as always, the Harry Potter Universe belongs to the brilliant Jo Rowling. Also, I beg of you to REVIEW. That is all! Yours.**


	10. Of Wanting Wood and Potatoes

I felt a lurch in my stomach. Why had I brought this up? Of course Rose would want to hear all about it and would, without a doubt, have some very interesting interpretations for me. But I didn't really want this to get back to Fiona and Carrie... That would be most undesirable.

"You have to promise something first."

Rose raised an eyebrow, "And what would that be?"

"Do _not_ tell Fiona and Carolina, please."

"Of course! I do so solemnly swear," she hissed. "Now, out with it!"

"Alright, well, I guess these have been, ah, plaguing me since about the time Oliver decided to force me to go to Hogsmeade with him, you know, and, er, well..."

Rose sighed and leaned closer to me. "Look, Rue, we've all had, you know, shagging dreams and whatnot. I'm not going to judge you if you're dreaming of fu-"

"_What_?" I interrupted her. "No, I'm not having _those_ kinds of dreams, Rose! Please, don't... Don't finish that sentence."

She held in a laugh. Completely bonkers, I swear.

"You going to continue, or am I going to have to guess what you've been dreaming about?"

"Right, umm," I paused, running the end of my quill against my lips, "well, as it were, I've been dreaming of snogging him an awful lot. But it's not _me_ that's snogging him, it's another me... Dream Rue, if you will. But she _enjoys _it. She _likes_ being with Wood. It's... disgusting."

"Well, what exactly happens? I need a little more to go off of."

"So, for instance, sometimes we're flying together or we're just around the castle places. No matter where we are, though, he always turns to me, I mean, er, Dream Rue and snogging ensues."

Rose nodded, appearing to be deep in thought as I continued with more specifics.

"Oh, a good example: the other night I dreamt that I was at Honeydukes, right? And I was getting the usual, but you lot weren't around, which is odd, and I had just finished paying for my candies when his hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me to the back. Mind you, I've never been in the back of the store, but I'm just assuming Dream Rue has, and he," I paused, biting my lip. This was so embarrassing.

"Continue," Rose whispered.

I cleared my throat and scooted my chair closer to her. I looked around the library to be sure no one was listening.

"Well, erm, he pushed me against the wall, and erm... Snogging and, uh, _fondling_ occurred shortly thereafter," I finished in a whisper.

Rose nodded knowingly. I watched her expectantly, awaiting the analysis.

"Right, so," she leaned back in her chair, no longer speaking in a whisper, "it would seem that Dream Rue is really the manifestation of your innermost, subconscious wishes."

I gawked at her.

"Dream Rue is doing what Rue-Rue really wants, but cannot for fear that she will be humiliated for fancying her 'worst enemy', as you so often claim. So, _you_ are the one who wants to ravage the bloke but you just cannot find an acceptable way to do so, which leads to Dream Rue fulfilling such desires while Rue in real life is often insufferable."

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I hadn't expected it to be this bad. Some mate I've got.

"Rue, to be perfectly blunt, you want his wood," she paused. "If you catch my drift."

At that, my jaw dropped and I stared at Rose, making incoherent noises as I grew more and more upset.

Rose smirked. "It looks like my work here is done."

I gathered my things and stalked out of the library.

* * *

I decided to hole up in the kitchens for a while, mostly because the best way to bury your troubles is by eating, or so my uncle claimed. I stuffed my mouth with potato and glared at page 47 of my Ancient Runes textbook. I'd read the same sentence about twenty times now, and my mood after my horrifying conversation with Rose had not improved at all.

I groaned and angrily stabbed at a slice of potato on my plate. I finally got it to stick on my fork and was about to bring it to my mouth when the portrait hole opened. I jumped to my feet, quickly bringing the fork in front of me, holding it as a weapon. As it were, I had whipped my fork up so fast that the potato on it went flying and hit a house elf on the head. I panicked and hurried to the small creature.

"Oh, bloody hell, I'm sorry!" I gushed, hesitantly reaching out to the poor whimpering thing that looked on the verge of tears. I awkwardly grabbed at the potato slice and peeled it off, stepping back and holding it at arms length. I looked to see who was now laughing at me and snorted: Tristan Gwinnett, Gryffindor sixth year. I tossed the slice at him, and it hit him square in the chest.

"Hey, now. That wasn't very nice, Rue."

I smirked. "That's what you get for scaring me and making me attack a house elf."

"Ah, well, a just punishment, I suppose! What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Avoiding my mates. You?"

He smiled wryly, "Same. Oliver stormed into our dormitory angry about something and the rest of us scattered. You didn't do anything to upset him, did you?"

"Not that I'm aware of, no."

"Well, in that case, mind if I join you?"

I looked into his dark brown eyes and flashed him one of my most dazzling smiles, an idea popping into my head. "By all means."

* * *

**Well, there's an update for you! Thanks to OhTex for helping me out/being an inspiration, and I do hope this chapter didn't disappoint! As usual, everything that you recognize from the Harry Potter Universe belongs to Jo Rowling; that which you do not belongs to me. Speaking of Harry Potter Universe... I'm going to the park in August! I'm so excited. Not that you care... But anyway, PLEASE, OH PLEASE REVIEW. I will love you forever and always. Expect chapter eleven tomorrow. Oh, and a shout-out will go to whoever can spot the Disney movie reference I made... Humbly yours.**


	11. Of Slavery and Building Character

The following lazy Thursday afternoon, I found myself lounging underneath a tree in the courtyard with my latest conquest, Tristan Gwinnett, much to the chagrin of my mates and, most notably, Wood.

While it is sometimes said that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, or at least that's what Mum tries to tell me, there was no single person in the wizarding world who could deny the attractiveness of Mr Gwinnett. His hair was a mop of golden-brown curls that complimented his light olive-toned skin quite well. His eyes were a striking hazel that even the most heartless Slytherin female could get lost in. He had a smile to rival Professor Lockhart's, and, best of all, he didn't look awkwardly lanky like so many of his peers did. All in all, Tristan Gwinnett was a very pleasant specimen to behold.

At that moment, Tristan was poking the ground with a twig while staring into his DADA book. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, and I was about to say something when a shadow blocked out the sun. I looked up, already glaring at who I thought it would be.

"Gwinnett," Wood barked, ignoring my glare.

Tristan looked up to meet Wood's gaze, "Yeah, mate?"

"You didn't show up to study with us."

"Oh," Tristan glanced at me. I shrugged, and he scrunched up his face. "What time was that again?"

Wood's lips pursed. "We started an hour ago."

"Right, I'll just come with you now, then." Tristan stood, holding his book under his arm and nonchalantly tossing the small twig. "I'll see you tomorrow, Rue."

I smiled up at him. "Sure thing!"

Wood scoffed. I shifted my gaze to him, "What's got your knickers in such a twist, Macduff? Can't handle being stood up by your date?"

I felt an evil smirk coming on. If only I could look in a mirror to see that Slytherin-esque smirk, I'm sure it would've been the triumphant smirk to end all smirks.

He shot me a particularly dark look, a warning of sorts, before turning on his heel and leading the way to the Gryffindor tower. Tristan gave a small wave and an apologetic shrug before hurrying to catch up with my enemy.

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest, leaning back against the tree trunk once more. For the past few days, I had made it my own personal, super secret mission to ensnare Tristan Gwinnett. The idea itself had popped into my head, quite brilliantly, in the kitchens that past Sunday. As it were, Tristan was everything Wood was not: charming, relaxed, easy to get on with, and, best of all, he didn't haunt my dreams.

Since deciding that I would go after Tristan, my dreams of Wood literally sucking my face off ceased. It was a wonderful feeling being able to look forward to going to sleep again, let me tell you. Rose, thank Merlin, had also kept to herself about the information I had shared with her, minding herself whenever Fiona and Carrie were around. Though, in classes with Wood, she would not hesitate to mouth some rather obscene things or make rather interesting hand gestures to me from across the room.

Operation: T Gwinn, as I so lovingly called it, was in full swing. I got to have a bit of fun, spending extra time outside of classes with a really great bloke. From what I could tell, he wasn't just playing along or fronting or anything, which is always a good inclination that one might have a decent chance with a member of the male population.

Eventually, maybe a few weeks from now, I'd be sitting pretty with a nice Gryffindor boyfriend who didn't infuriate me, or force me to go to Hogsmeade, or glare at me, or, erm, whatever else that bloody Scot happened to do. And, if nothing else, Operation: T Gwinn, at the very least, managed to distract my completely barmy subconscious.

* * *

I had just been freed from the Potions dungeons, after being berated by Professor Snape, and was on my way out to the grounds. I was meeting with Fiona for a debriefing on how things were going with Diggory, not that I particularly cared since I had my own boy to worry about.

I was about to break out in a run when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around, prepared to tell off whoever was getting in my way, when I noticed it was Tristan. I smiled.

"Hey," he breathed.

"Hello."

An awkward silence ensued.

"Is there, uh," I cleared my throat, "something I could help you with?"

"Oh, um, yeah. Actually, Rue, I was wondering if you were going to Hogsmeade with anyone?"

Dear, sweet Merlin, why did you have to be so cruel?

"Well, I'mkindofgoingwithWood." I gushed, hoping that if I said it fast enough, we could go on pretending it never happened.

"Er, what?"

I bit my lip. Shit. "I'm kind of going with Wood," I said slowly, injecting loathing into every word. I looked at my feet, avoiding Tristan's gaze.

"Oh, right... Why?"

I perked up. He wasn't giving up on me yet!

"He's forcing me. I'm kind of his slave for a day."

He nodded, looking as though something had clicked in his mind. "I'm sorry. That doesn't sound fun."

I shrugged in what I hoped was a pathetic manner.

"Hey, listen, I have bagsies on the next Hogsmeade trip then, yeah?"

I slapped on a dazzling Rue smile, nodding, "Yeah, that'd be brilliant."

He smiled, "Well, I'll see you later then! I'll warn Oliver not to be too cruel to you." With a wink, he was off.

I sighed dreamily, holding my Potions book to my chest as I stared after him. The shrill call of my name brought me back to reality. I turned to see Fiona sitting under our usual tree and frantically waving her arms, looking like a madwoman. I studied her for a moment before starting off down the hill.

* * *

Saturday morning. A Hogsmeade day. But this wasn't one of those that could be measured by the usual standards. No, this one was on a different scale entirely: the Could It Get Much Worse Than This? Scale.

I stood in front of the mirror in my dormitory, awkwardly tugging at the hem of my jumper. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair for the twentieth time since breakfast.

"Rue, would you relax?" Carrie asked from her bed as she worked on a braid.

"Yeah, Rue," Fiona called from the loo, "it's not like he's going to be disappointed with you. He fancies you!"

I groaned and turned to my bed, falling backwards on it and closing my eyes. I'd been running over every possible scenario since Thursday night, none of them ending well for either party involved. I had begged the girls to tell him I was deathly ill and couldn't leave my bed, but they refused. If nothing good came out of this date, they claimed, it would at least build character.

Build character. Pfft. I have enough character to go around the school several times over. But no, I just had to suck it up and go on this bloody date with that bloody Scot. Perfect.

"Alright, Sleeping Beauty, time to get up." I opened my eyes, looking directly into Rose's face. She had no concept of personal space whatsoever. She stepped back as I got off the bed and adjusted my clothing one last time.

"I will escort you to your doom," she smiled. I rolled my eyes and followed her.

Rose talked the entire way down to the main doors. For the most part, I tuned her out, particularly after she had started telling me that I should always use protection. Since when did favour-date equal shagging?

We reached the bottom of the staircase and Rose gently squeezed my hand, getting my attention. I stopped.

"Yeah?"

"You weren't listening to me at all, were you?"

"Nope," I said, keeping my gaze fixed in front of me. I could see him, trying to look cool and casual in a black jumper and trousers. I huffed before taking a confident step forward.

"Morning, Wood," I managed, approaching him.

"Morning."

Rose was reduced to sputters of laughter. I raised an eyebrow at her before turning to look expectantly up at Macduff.

"Shall we?"

"Yeah, I suppose," I sighed, leaving Rose standing in the corridor laughing hysterically.

It wasn't until Wood and I were inside the carriage that I understood what she was laughing at: Morning wood. I needed a new mate.

* * *

**And there it is, lovelies! I actually updated twice within 48 hours! Unheard of! As you all know, I own nothing that you recognize from J.K. Rowling's amazing work. That which you don't belongs to moi. Before I get another update out, I am going to go back and rewrite the first chapter because I just don't like it. So it might be a few days before you see a new chapter up. Anyway, as a special way to show my love and affection for you dear readers, I will be personally responding to your reviews. That "reward" is basically me **_**begging**_** for REVIEWS****. They make me happy. In fact, they are my sole source of nutrition. Yours.**


	12. Of Sugar Quills and Racial Slurs

I sighed, watching Wood as he climbed out of the carriage. I'd absolved to just try to make today as painless as possible and just go along with whatever the hell he wanted, so long as it wasn't snogging, fondling, or shagging related.

I stood awkwardly and moved to step down. I was all set to get down myself, when he offered me his hand. I took it after giving it a sneer, and planted my feet on the ground next to him.

"So," I began, looking out at the small village before us. We hadn't spoken the entire ride down. Well, I hadn't. He blathered on about something or another. I hadn't really been listening.

"Honeydukes, then?" He offered. I shrugged and followed him as he started off, his hands stuffed in his trouser pockets.

* * *

We wandered into Honeydukes, pushing through the throngs of third and fourth years who seemed to swamp the small shop. I sighed, watching Macduff's back to be sure I didn't lose him in the chaos.

I wasn't really paying attention to him when I spotted Sugar Quills that now came in a lovely purple colour. I smiled and opened my mouth to say something to him when I collided with someone how had stopped right in front of me. I latched onto them, feeling the soft fabric of their jumper, and, embarrassed, looked up to make eye contact with Wood. I quickly detached myself and mumbled a soft 'Sorry.'

He smiled gently at me. I innerly bristled.

"Something you wanted there, Rue?"

I opened my mouth like a fish, gasping for water, before some little twat bumped into me from behind, making me lose my footing. I once again found myself clinging to the stupid, bloody Gryffindor. His arms wrapped around me in a somewhat protective fashion. I froze, dragging my gaze from glaring at whoever had pushed me to his face.

He wore a disgusting smirk that made me want to duff him up a bit.

"Amused, are we?" I snapped, pulling away from him and stomping towards the purple Sugar Quills. I grabbed three boxes before turning and taking up a spot in the queue. Wood seemed to have followed me and stood next to me, a box of toffees in his hand.

I refused to make eye contact as we slowly made our way closer to the register.

I angrily dumped the three boxes down on the counter. Wood set his box of toffees down next to my boxes which were scattered across the counter haphazardly.

"Is this together, then?" The cashier asked, looking between us.

I opened my mouth to speak, "Ha, like he'd buy me-"

I was cut off. "Yeah, they are."

"Two galleons, please."

I looked up at him, my eyes wide from shock. Why was he paying for my candies? And did those toffees really cost that much? Bloody hell, the tosser had expensive taste when it came to sweets!

"Look, Wood, you really don't have to do this. I'm perfectly capable," I trailed off when he set two gleaming galleons onto the counter after digging around in his pocket. I held my tongue as the boxes were put in a brown paper bag. Wood picked up the bag, wrapped his hand around my elbow, and dragged me through and out of the shop.

* * *

"Can I please repay you?" I asked for the fiftieth time since we had left Honeydukes. He had dragged me through Zonko's to pick up something the Weasley twins had ordered last month and then proceeded to take me into Gladrags Wizardwear after I had jokingly remarked that I needed a new pair of socks.

He stopped and turned to me suddenly. I raised my eyebrows.

"Could you please stop being so annoying, Rue? This is a date. I can very well pay for your Honeydukes purchase and whatever you want at The Three Broomsticks later."

A few people around us turned, curiously eavesdropping on our conversation.

I shook my head. "No, this is a _favour_. That is very much different," I said matter-of-factly. "I wouldn't willingly go on a date with you anyway, and you know it," I added.

A look of disappointment set in on his features. Oh no. I'd gone and honestly hurt his feelings, what little he had of them. I awkwardly glanced around, desperate for something. I could hardly manage to cheer up the girls when they were upset, how in Merlin's name was I supposed to cheer up my enemy? And what was I doing feeling guilty about upsetting him? I would have to ponder that later, but, at that very moment, he needed to be distracted.

"Erm, ahh... Oh, look there!" I pointed behind his shoulder. He turned slightly, following my finger.

"Let's go to Spintwitches," I smiled warmly up at him and gently put my arm through his, pulling him after me. I hoped that my sacrifice of giving him female body contact would make up for whatever I had said to upset him.

* * *

Surprisingly, we spent a good two and a half hours inside the sporting shop, admiring and looking at every single Quidditch item the store had to offer. Wood was a good as a kid in a candy shop, sitting next to me amongst the shelves and marveling at a new broom care kit he had in his lap. I sat crossed legged, completely engrossed in chapter three of _Beating the Bludgers_.

Wood sighed beside me, breaking my concentration on new defensive strategies. I looked up, but didn't turn to face him.

"Rue?" He asked softly, heeding the shopkeeper's warning to throw us out if we were as rowdy as we had apparently been when we first waltzed into the store. He shifted next to me, and I could feel his leg pressed against mine.

I felt heat rising in my cheeks and looked back down at the book. "Yeah," I muttered.

"Why can't it always be like this?"

I turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised.

"Well, as it were, there isn't a branch of Spintwitches inside Hogwarts-"

"I didn't mean that," he rolled his eyes impatiently.

I took a deep breath and bit my lip, "Right."

"So?" He prompted.

"Well," I paused thoughtfully, "this is entirely a favour, you know that. When it comes down to it, as soon as we're back up to the castle, we'll continue hating each other. I'll still be plotting to ruin your chances at your match on the seventh, you'll still be a bloody Scottish tosser, and that's that." I snapped my book shut and stood.

He followed suit, our eyes staying locked the entire time. "It's just how it's supposed to be, you know?" I offered, not really sure what else to say.

He nodded.

"Now, I'm going to pay for this," I held up the most recent Whisp publication. "You going to buy that?" I pointed at the care kit still in his hands.

He shrugged, "I already have one."

I clicked my tongue, bent over to take it from his hands, and glanced at the price tag. Five galleons. "Well, I will kindly donate two galleons to the cause, but _do not_ mention it to anyone, alright?"

A smile tugged at his mouth, "I wouldn't dream of ruining your _spotless_ reputation."

* * *

We sat in The Three Broomsticks, having had a row over who would pay. It ended when I slammed two galleons on the bar and pushed them to a rather offended Madam Rosmerta. I don't think she'd ever heard more than three words come out of my mouth, and the row with Wood, which was laced evenly with a few racial slurs and lewd names, seemed to have affronted her.

Wood glared at me as Rosmerta put two butterbeers in front of us. "Why do you have to be so difficult?"

"Why do you have to be a sodding prat? I told you I can pay for myself."

"Then how in Merlin's name did you end up paying for me in the process?" He hissed.

"Because, this _is not_ a date. Are you that thick?"

"Again, that brings me to question why you paid for my drink."

"Oh, sod off."

"Can't. We're still on a date."

I glared daggers at him before taking a large gulp of my butterbeer. I sputtered as I attempted to swallow and choked.

Wood chuckled into his own glass.

"Wanker," I gasped out.

He clapped me on the back a few times. I swatted his arm away when I finally regained a normal breathing pattern and fixed a strong, hateful glare at him.

* * *

After finishing our drinks, we gathered with the lot of our classmates and climbed into a carriage. I had half hoped anyone would come and join us, so it wouldn't be only Wood and I in the carriage like it had been before. Alas, my wishful thinking was only that. I sighed, digging through the paper Honeydukes bag. I pulled out Wood's toffee box and handed it to him. He muttered a thanks and put it in the bag that held his new broom care kit. Which I had helped to pay for. I was bloody barmy and I should probably make a mad dash for the Hospital Wing as soon as we reached Hogwarts.

I watched the scenery pass by, and Wood, thankfully, kept his gob shut. The carriage eventually came to a stop, and I gathered up my things and slipped out. Wood followed closely behind as I made my way up the stairs.

"Well, this is it," I said, shifting the bag I held in my arms.

"Yep," Wood said calmly.

"I still hate you," I watched him to gauge his reaction.

"I know, Rue," he offered me a small smile. I made a face and turned on my heel, knowing I would have to recount the entire tale to Rose, Fiona and Carrie as soon as I stepped foot in our room.

"Oi, Rue," I heard Wood boom. I stopped mid-step and turned, raising my eyebrows in exasperation. The many students who were milling about in the hallway, chatting animatedly, quieted down some, interested in what one rival had to say to another. "Thanks for the broom care kit! I'll be using it right away to polish my broom, if you catch my drift." Gasps filled the hall. He winked at me as a smirk tugged at his mouth.

I let out an angry groan before fleeing the vicinity. Oh, that boy was good.

**

* * *

And, there you have it! A super long chapter, wow. One that was delightfully awkward to write and hopefully made your skin crawl a little bit, as it certainly did for me! You know the drill: J.K. owns all the goodies except for those you don't recognize from the series. I would really appreciate it if you took the time to ****REVIEW****. Please, please please. I'll have a shorter update out later. Yours!**


	13. Of Lemon Drops and Warnings

It was the night of the Halloween feast. I sat at the Ravenclaw table, sitting next to Klaus and the girls, happily stuffing my face with sweets of all kinds and occasionally gulping down some pumpkin juice.

It had been roughly two weeks since my favour-date with Wood, and the entire bloody school knew all about it, or so it seemed. However, many were under the impression that there had been much snogging going on when there obviously had not been. Of course, Wood's little comment about polishing his stick afterwards hadn't helped eased the situation. It seemed that he was dead set on tarnishing my reputation.

Rose, Fiona, and Carrie had defended me tirelessly when we were walking between classes through the corridors and stupid students would make snide remarks about Wood's wood to me. It was rather touching, though I'd often done the same for them in years past.

Avoiding Wood as I had so desired after fleeing had been exceedingly difficult, as it seemed he purposefully made sure he was constantly in the way, and he was also in several of my classes. Apparently, the professors thought it was an entertainingly sick joke to pair me with William Wallace. Or he bribed them so that we were always partners. At the moment, I favored the latter idea as I wouldn't dare to think that my professors hated me so much. After all, I was a Ravenclaw and came from a very esteemed family.

Klaus elbowed me, bringing me from my revelry and I glared at him. "What?" I asked, swallowing the toffee I'd just shoved into my mouth. It went down sluggishly, briefly leading me to worry that I would choke.

"Rose was trying to get your attention."

"Oh, er, right." I looked at Rose, "Something I can help you with, dear?"

"Oliver's been staring at the back of your head this entire time."

"Good for him."

Fiona raised her eyebrows, "Seriously, Rue?"

I groaned, shoving a lolly into my mouth. Lecture time.

Carrie bobbed in her seat, leaning over her plate, "You told us yourself you didn't think it was such an awful date."

"Yeah, because I felt _guilty_!" I interjected.

Carrie huffed, "Right, because you upset him. Come off it."

"Carrie's right," Fiona nodded in agreement. "I think you two are right perfect for each other, and you just can't handle that fact, which is why you've thrown yourself, and dragged the rest of us with you, into early morning Quidditch practices and plotting for the first Gryffindor match."

Rose perked up, "So you _are_ plotting?"

Fiona rolled her eyes, "Yeah, and she's trying to get the entire team in on it, you know. We've all been practically force to-"

"Stop," I hissed, motioning for them to lower their voices. I scanned the Hufflepuff table and then turned and scanned the Gryffindor table. I briefly made eye contact with Wood, which was painfully awkward for me, before turning back to the gang.

"So, what's this grand scheme of yours that you've yet to tell me and Carrie here?" Rose asked.

I looked at Klaus, and he held his hands over his ears, indicating he wasn't listening. He preferred to distance himself from his mad little sister's evil plans.

"Well, you see, I've bought everyone kilts, right? All of us on the team, anyway. And we're all going to wear them, and I bribed-"

Fiona coughed, "More like _coerced_."

I shot her a glare before continuing, "I bribed some band members, and Jamison, to play the bagpipes rather obnoxiously."

"Ooh, what are you going to play?" Carrie whispered, pushing a lemon drop into her mouth.

"'Scotland the Brave,' obviously," I smirked triumphantly.

"Rue," Rose said, sitting back on the bench, "sometimes you are bloody brilliant. It is amazing."

"Yeah," Carrie agreed, "if that doesn't distract Oliver, I have no idea what will."

"Fantastic, let's just inflate Rue's already giant ego," Fiona said, her words dripping with sarcasm.

"Now, now," Klaus interjected, "I'd rather we _not_ do that. I'm the one who has to live with her, after all."

"Yeah, during the hols," Fiona said under her breath.

"That's bad enough," Klaus laughed.

I rolled my eyes. "I _am_ sitting right here, you know."

Klaus stood, mussing my hair, and then turned to go to the Hufflepuff table to sit with Anna. I stared after him and sighed. Carrie poked me.

"What's wrong?"

"Huh? Oh, er, nothing at all."

Rose raised an eyebrow. "I know that look."

Fiona cocked her head to the side, studying me. "The I'm-jealous-my-brother-is-in-a-stable-relationship look?"

"None other than that very one," Rose nodded.

I groaned, burying my face in my hands and shaking my head.

"Oh, c'mon, Rue. You know you are. Look at them," Fiona gestured towards Klaus and Anna who were snuggled against each other, smiling amiably amongst their seventh year mates. I huffed. They were far too cutesy for me.

"I'm not jealous," I defended.

"You could very well be in such a relationship," Carrie said from beside me, gently patting my shoulder. I shrugged her hand off and looked up.

"What do you mean?"

"As I mentioned earlier," Rose said, her eyes sliding from mine to something behind me, "Wood has been staring at you _all_ night. I mean, look, Gwinnett's barely got him to join in the conversation!"

I perked up. Tristan!

"If you're going to suggest I go after Wood, as you have, I refuse. Instead, I'm going to wholeheartedly and passionately focus on Operation: T Gwinn as soon as I've executed this Quidditch plot."

All three rolled their eyes. "You're so blind," Fiona finally sighed.

"I am not. I do believe that Tristan fancies me some."

"Yes, that much is obvious," Carrie said, sipping at her juice.

"What, that she thinks he fancies her, or he does?" Fiona asked, turning her gaze to the boy in question.

"Both," Rose answered, dragging her own eyes from staring at Wood who was apparently still staring at me.

"So, I don't see why I shouldn't go after him, then," I said. "Now, I'd prefer you lot just support me in this because I think I know what's best for me, yeah?"

No one said anything for a time until Rose spoke up.

"Rue, in regard to going after blokes, excluding Oliver, I have no more faith in you than in a stewed prune."

* * *

We stood and left the Great Hall, having had our fill of candies. I didn't fail to notice a certain group of Gryffindor blokes had also stood, along with a few smatterings of others across the Hall.

All of us filed into the same corridor, trying to stay with our mates. With my luck, I got separated from Rose, Fiona and Carrie and soon found myself walking with none other than Wood.

"Rue," he acknowledged me, offering a gentle smile.

I scoffed.

"Yes, Wood?"

"Happy Halloween."

"Yeah, you too. Where's Tristan?" I quickly changed the subject.

"He's speaking to some Hufflepuff girl, I believe."

"Right, sure." I rolled my eyes. He was trying to make me jealous. As though Rue Von Straussburg gets jealous, especially of a Hufflepuff. Wood was probably just making things up.

However, the flow of students came to a halt suddenly, and, had Wood not grabbed my arm and pulled me back against him, I would have run right into some second year who stood in the middle of the hallway behind the Golden Trio. I looked up at Wood and started to struggle in his grasp.

He paid me no mind, his eyes instead fixed on the wall. I followed his gaze and gasped, my heart sinking and stomach churning at what I saw. I stopped struggling and found myself leaning into his chest, my fingers twisting around the fabric of his robes. His arms squeezed around me, holding me in place protectively.

Hanging from a torch was a motionless Mrs. Norris, and a foreboding, gleaming warning was written on the wall:

The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware.

**

* * *

Woah, two chapters in one day. In the span of a few hours. Now **_**that**_** is seriously impressive. I hope you enjoyed it and it wasn't a total let down after the favour-date chapter. I'll likely have another chapter up tomorrow as I don't want to keep you all in suspense. I don't own the Harry Potter universe, only the characters and situations you do not recognize. I also used a little quote from Shakespeare's _Henry IV_. Of course, I will once again BEG FOR REVIEWS. I am a lowly writer; reviews fuel my creativity. Also, if you would kindly go to check out the story my dear friend thesmilingpirate will be posting/has posted, a post-epilogue fic, I would love you ever so much. Yours.**


	14. Of Conclusions and Parchment

After the news had spread about the school of this mystical and apparently dangerous Chamber of Secrets, every bloody student and their mum was in a complete tiswas. Clearly, it was with good reason. Some loony was galavanting about the school, from what I could gather, and had it out for those who weren't of pure blood. It seemed I was in the clear, or so I hoped.

In History of Magic, I had bolding decided to ask Professor Binns about the Chamber, seeing as he was a rather old, dead bloke who surely knew quite a bit about it. It counted as history, that much I was certain. He kindly explained it to my rather small class, and we'd all listened with interest and spent the rest of the class exchanging ideas about who the heir could possibly be.

I'd been doing my own investigating and had concluded, rather publicly to my mates and whoever else might hear me, that Harry Potter had something to do with it. I had nothing against the boy, however he seemed to attract trouble like I attracted bothersome Scots. I was sure to convey that I did not believe he was the Heir of Slytherin, seeing as he was in Gryffindor and all that lot. Fred and George were sure to take my deductions to the extreme, however, and paraded around the school behind Harry declaring that the Heir of Slytherin was coming through. Bullocks, obviously, but so it goes with the Weasley twins. They are rather foolish.

"You know, Rue, some might say you're just fitting 'im up," George said, following me out of the library.

"But I'm not! I'm simply saying what everyone else is thinking," I said, taking a right and hurrying down the staircase before it had a chance to move.

"Right, well, maybe you should lay off a bit," Fred offered.

I rolled my eyes, "Like either of you are defending the boy's reputation. You waltz around claiming that the Heir of Slytherin is coming through, or have you failed to notice your own actions?"

George smiled, and Fred scoffed. "Nonsense, my dear. We're just making sure he has plenty of time to get to his classes."

"By threatening other students in a roundabout kind of way, yeah?"

"Of course! Now, onto a more important matter," George gently grabbed my arm and pulled me into a small, deserted alcove.

Fred rounded on me, "Rüdiger Von Straussburg, how have things been going with our dearest Quidditch captain, Oliver Wood?"

I raised my eyebrows, "Seriously?"

"Nah, he's only joking," George said, attempting to look completely sincere.

I let out a sigh. "He's being bloody annoying, that's how things are going. I want to hex his arse to three years ago when he hated me so he could see how foolish he's being now."

"Oh, come off it," Fred groaned. "We _saw_ him holding you after the Halloween feast three days ago."

"He wasn't _holding_ me," I said defensively, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Yeah, he kind of was. And you were clinging to him," George paused, gauging my reaction.

"Kind of," Fred quickly added.

"Look, if this is just you two confronting me because he's put you up to it-"

"Not at all!"

"How dare you think so little of us!"

"Honestly, Rue."

"You're bonkers."

"Well then, rather quick to deny things, aren't we, gentlemen?"

"He really didn't put us up to this. We just want both of you to be happy," Fred said, searching my eyes. George nodded.

"Blimey, you sound like girls. Go conspire with Carrie, Fi and Rose and leave me out of it. I've got my own boy troubles with Gwinnett anyway."

"Isn't he seeing that Hufflepuff girl?" George asked, looking to his brother.

Fred shrugged, "Dunno."

"Dear Merlin," I groaned, pushing past them. "As lovely as your company is, dinner awaits in the Great Hall, and I'm feeling quite peckish."

"You'll see, Rue!" One of them called. "You'll be happier once you're with him!"

* * *

The next morning, I hurried down the hill to get to Care of Magical Creatures. I'd been a tad late stumbling out of bed due to a rather awful dream about Wood, and Fiona hadn't bothered to wake me up.

I came up beside her just before Hagrid came around to tell us about our lesson.

"Thanks for the wake up call, mate," I muttered under my breath.

"Sorry, you looked like you were having a rather pleasant dream," she hissed back.

"What in the bloody hell does that mean?"

"You looked the most relaxed that I've seen you in weeks."

I was about to say something else when I felt a presence come up behind me. "Nice of you to join us today," a distinctively Scottish voice said from behind me. Shivers ran up my spine when I felt his breath on my neck. How close to me was this boy?

"Bugger off," I murmured, attempting to look like I was focused and interested when Hadrid looked over at me. He turned his attention back to the other side of the group, and Oliver moved so he stood directly next to me. I could feel his arm against mine.

The nerve.

Hagrid gave us instructions to set to work. I turned to glare up at Wood. "What is your _problem_?" I snapped.

He just smiled before turning to work with one of his stupid mates.

I shook my head and joined Fiona.

"So, what were you dreaming about then?"

"I'm not at the liberty to say," I said shortly. "What are we supposed to be doing?"

Fiona began explaining whatever Hagrid had said at the start of the lesson. I nodded absentmindedly, my thoughts focused on the dream. It seemed like it was in the future, but not too much since Wood and I looked roughly the same age. But I felt older. And that is what was so remarkably different about this dream. It hadn't been Dream Rue, it had been _me_. I hated to think that I had actually been enjoying lying in the grass with that descendent of William Wallace and then rolling over to straddle and snog the hell out of him. It was all rather disturbing, and I decided that it was necessary to later discuss the possible meanings with Rose. I rather hoped snogging him in my dream really meant that I wanted to deck him.

Class was eventually dismissed and I hurried off, set on finding Rose before Ancient Runes.

* * *

"There you are!" I gasped, latching onto Rose's arm before she could slip away.

"Yes, here I am," she smiled. "Shall we?"

"Please, and, er, there's something we need to discuss via parchment if we aren't doing anything particularly important during class, alright?"

"Sure."

We took our usual seats in Ancient Runes towards the back of the room. I fumbled through my bag, looking for a bit of blank parchment. My eyebrows furrowed when I pulled out a folded up piece of parchment. However, I didn't bother to pay it any mind and set it aside, desperate to talk to Rose. I triumphantly found a piece and set it in front of her. She dipped her quill in ink and began writing.

**So, what seems to be bothering you? Another dream, perhaps?**

_You're good. _

**What happened?**

_Dream Rue has disappeared. Now it's actually me, and I'm straddling and snogging him abso-bloody-lutely senseless. It's awful._

**I see, I see. Well, I'd interpret it as you fancying a shag. From him, obviously.**

She noted the look I gave her when I saw what she had written and quickly added to it.

**Or probably something less graphic, but along that very same line.**

_Brilliant. I hate this, Rose._

**I know, love. **

_Don't tell Fi and Carrie, please._

**Got it. So, what's that bit of paper you've got there?**

I looked at it and shrugged, turning my attention to the front of the room where the professor was pointing to a translation on the blackboard. Rose poked the back of my hand with the tip of her quill.

**Let me see it, then.**

I slid it over to her and began taking notes, waiting for her to tell me what was on the paper, if anything.

**It's from Oliver. He wants to see you. Privately.**

_Well, he's not going to, is he? The little sneak._

**Oh, why not? Give the bloke a chance.**

I shook my head, signaling the end of the conversation. Rose slipped Wood's note back to me. I'd burn it later in the common room.

* * *

**Alright, so this was originally a lot longer, however I realized the next bit was going to be at least the length of another chapter. So I'm going to finish that up and post it soon. Another two chapters in a few hours, just like yesterday. (Impressive, no?) I know not a lot happened in this chapter, but it's definitely going somewhere, I promise. As always, Ms Rowling owns the Harry Potter Universe and all you recognize from it. Rue and Co are my own creation. **_**Please **_**review! I love them. Yours.**


	15. Of Bludgers and Bagpipes

It was the morning of the first Quidditch match of the season: Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. I knew Gryffindor would likely win, seeing as Hufflepuff had always been rather terrible at Quidditch, but I still hoped Diggory was first to catch the Snitch. My entire team had skipped going to the Great Hall for breakfast, eating in the kitchens instead. We needed to hide the kilts, otherwise the Gryffindor team would know something was going on, and Wood would probably rip mine off me and ravage me or something of the sort.

I glanced at my watch, stood, and cleared my throat. The team quieted down, turning in their seats to face me.

"Well, we all know what we're going to do, yeah?"

"A good, old-fashioned Highland Fling," Davies smiled. For once, he wasn't bothering me.

Fiona rolled her eyes at his eagerness. She was truly the only one who was completely uninterested in this particularly excellent prank of mine.

"So, let's go out there and be brilliant! Jamison, you've got the band ready, yeah?"

"Yes, ma'am," he saluted.

I smiled evilly. "Lovely. Tally ho, then!"

We filed out of the kitchen in two perfectly straight lines. Fiona and I led the charge, a goofy smile plastered on my face and a look of disapproval on hers. I clapped her on the shoulder, "Cheer up. This'll be the greatest moment of your Quidditch career without having to be on your broomstick!"

She rolled her eyes.

We all stood in the first row of the Ravenclaw stands and threatened anyone who dared to sit directly behind us. This would be the greatest prank ever pulled during a Quidditch match, and I didn't want it to be tarnished by some bloody first year who decided to get in the way.

We had been sitting in the stands for a while, watching the game above us with mild interest. After Hufflepuff had made another goal, I stood and motioned for my coconspirators to do the same.

However, just as the band had pulled out their bagpipes and other students had started to notice us, I felt that something was wrong. I looked up, carefully watching the match.

"What is it?" Fiona asked, trying to spot whatever it was I was seeing.

"I don't know. Something doesn't feel right."

My teammates and the band watched me, waiting for instruction.

"Fi," I said slowly, squinting. "Does that bludger seem to be acting a bit off to you?"

At that moment, the bludger, having been hit by one of the Weasley twins towards a Hufflepuff chaser, spun off in a completely different direction, zooming towards Potter for the third time since I'd started to watch it. I pulled out my wand and started muttering a counter-curse. In retrospect, I realize that this probably didn't look good from anyone else's point of view, however all those around me could verify that I was not the one setting the bludger after Harry.

Harry reached out for what I presumed was the Snitch when a loud snap was echoed through the pitch as the bludger collided with his forearm. I let out a hiss as others around me gasped.

I turned to the band members who had been sitting with us. "Put those away, will you?"

"Rue, this is bad," Fiona grabbed onto my arm, attaching herself to me as we hurried back to the castle after the match. Lockhart, the fool, had managed to make the bones in Harry's arm disappear entirely in his pathetic attempt to fix him up. Now the boy would surely be spending time in hospital.

"You're going to be blamed for the bludger, you know. Plenty of people saw you with your wand out," Fiona continued.

I shook her hand off my arm. "You don't think I realise that?" I snapped.

She looked down at her feet. "I'm just worried. I mean, _I_ know it wasn't you, as does the rest of the team. But of course we're going to stand behind you. You're our captain and all that-"

"Fi," I stopped, "please hush up. I know all this, and I'm just as worried as you are."

If it was found that I was the one cursing the bludger, and I most certainly was not, I would surely be revoked of my position as Quidditch captain and would likely be pulled from the team. And I had no idea what I would do with myself if that happened.

* * *

The girls and I had spent the rest of the afternoon in our dormitory, solemnly thinking up ways to convince the staff that I was not behind the mishap at the match should I be questioned about it. We also maybe performed a ritual dance and prayed to Merlin and any other powers that be that I not be accused of injuring Harry and to keep me on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.

Later that evening at dinner, I found out that Harry was indeed spending time in the Hospital Wing to regrow the bones in his arm. I felt bloody awful about the entire ordeal, especially since I hadn't been able to prevent it from happening. It really was a simple counter-curse and yet that bludger seemed to have a mind of its own entirely.

I sat quietly, poking at the food on my plate and not really paying any attention to whatever Rose, Carrie and Fiona were animatedly discussing.

I was pulled from my absentminded food-poking when Rose elbowed me in the ribs and someone behind me cleared their throat. I turned to glare at Rose before fulling turning in my seat to see who apparently wanted my attention.

"Yes, Wood?"

"Come with me."

"I'm eating, actually, so, er-"

"Come with me," he said more forcefully, his hand wrapping around my arm. I stood, awkwardly sliding from the bench and following him out to the corridor.

He marched up the stairs, pulling me along behind him, and stopped when we were in an alcove that I registered as the very same one the Weasley twins had forced me into earlier that week. He turned to me, finally releasing my arm.

"What's this all about then, Wood?" I asked, gently rubbing the spot where he'd been holding me only moments ago.

"I know that you're the one responsible for the bludger," he stated in all seriousness.

"What?" I asked, shocked.

"I saw you with your wand out. If this was your idea of a prank, it wasn't funny at all."

"No, Wood, you've got it all wrong, I was-"

"Oh, have I? I don't think so."

"What kind of person do you think I am?" I demanded. "I would never _dream_ of doing anything to Harry-"

"Apparently, you would, _Rue_," he spat.

"Let me finish," I hissed, glaring up at him. "You haven't told any professors yet, have you?"

"So you _did_-"

"No, I did not. Now let me finish what I was saying, will you?"

He looked at me expectantly, his arms crossed over his chest.

I sighed and ran a shaky hand through my hair, "I was actually trying to use a counter-curse to stop it. I noticed something was wrong, everyone around me can attest to that, and pulled out my wand to try to help. That's all. I would never dream of jinxing a bludger to go after and injure another Quidditch player."

"Who exactly was around you at the time?"

"Fiona, the rest of the team, some band members-"

"People who are loyal to you, then."

"Yeah," I said softly, knowing where he was going.

"Shame that," he started to walk back off in the direction of the Great Hall.

"Wood, please, you have to believe me!" I cried suddenly, unable to control myself.

He stopped, turned and strode back over to where I stood.

"The prank was to do a Highland Fling-type dance and have band members play 'Scotland the Brave' on bagpipes. That's it. It's why we were all wearing kilts, don't you see? I only wanted to annoy and distract you."

He raised his eyebrows, studying me. "I find that rather unlikely."

"You know I would never hurt him. I would never hurt anyone like that!" I said desperately.

He moved to turn, but I reached out to him, catching his sleeve in my fingers. "Oliver, please, you _have _to believe me," I begged, tears stinging my eyes. He faced me fully. "I don't want to be removed from the team, and I would never do something that would put me in such a position. Surely you know that!"

He opened his mouth to say something else, but stopped. "Did you just... just call me by my first name?" His eyebrows were furrowed.

I felt heat rising in my cheeks. I let go of his sleeve, my hand dropping to my side, and I looked at my feet, nodding slowly. What had I done?

Wood moved forward, and his shoes came into view. I looked up at him, ready to defend myself. "I couldn't even fathom setting a bludger after someone. Please don't run off to McGonagall-"

I was suddenly interrupted when Wood's lips crashed against mine. I wasn't sure what to do, but my eyes slid shut on their own accord and I relaxed slightly in his arms, innerly relishing the feel of his warm mouth against mine.

That state of relaxation quickly morphed into one of panic when I heard footsteps. I pushed Wood away from me, embarrassed and already mentally berating myself for what had just happened. He looked rather disgruntled and was about to say something when someone else beat him to it.

"Oh, Wood, sorry... I didn't realise you were with someone," a familiar voice said.

Wood stepped to the side, revealing Tristan Gwinnett. His eyes widened when he saw me. "Right, well, I'll just see you back in the common room then."

Tristan quickly turned on his heel and bolted up another flight of stairs.

"Bloody hell, Wood! Look what you've done!" I cried, pushing past him and running after Tristan. I had a lot of explaining to do.

* * *

**And there it is! Finally, some action. Bet you weren't expecting that! Anyway, J.K. Rowling, the literary goddess of our generation, owns all that you recognize from the Harry Potter Universe. That which you do not belongs to me. I hope you enjoyed this chapter thoroughly, and I do so hope that you choose to **_**REVIEW**_**. Also, my friend thesmilingpirate is going to be posting a fic tomorrow evening that you should check out- it's fabulous. I should have another update or two out by the end of the weekend. Yours.**


	16. Of Snog Attacks and Pumpkin Juice

I rushed after Tristan, mentally cursing Wood the entire way. It's not like I was begging him to snog me or anything, and yet there we were. I was disgusted with myself and resolved that it would be quite unwise to mention it to anyone.

"Tristan," I called. He finally slowed to a stop before he rounded on me.

"What was all that about then, Rue? Thought you'd have a bit of fun with me just to get to Oliver? C'mon, he's my best mate! I can't believe you would sink so low," he snapped.

I stood there, affronted, before approaching him hesitantly. "Look, Tristan, that's not it at all. He just kind of... _snog attacked_ me. I," I paused, studying him for a reaction. "I don't fancy him at all."

He was quiet for some time before he sighed, "I don't know."

"What?"

"I just don't know, Rue. I thought I maybe fancied you, but-"

"Wait, wait. You _thought_ you did?"

"Yeah," he didn't look at me, instead finding his shoes incredibly interesting.

"Tristan, please, give me another chance."

He looked up at me finally, his lips parted to say something else. If he did say something, I wasn't aware of it. In that instant that our eyes met, I decided I was going to snog Tristan Gwinnett senseless. Not only did I need to alleviate the obvious sexual tension between us, but I needed to clear my mind of Wood's blasted snog.

I grabbed him by the front of his robes, pulling him to me. I pressed my lips against his fiercely before I drew back hesitantly to gauge his reaction. When his eyes remained closed and he started leaning closer to my face, I decided to just go with it. No point messing with destiny, you know?

I don't really know how long we stood there snogging, but it seemed like an awful long time. We were, however, eventually interrupted by someone's throat clearing.

I pulled away from Tristan and turned to see none other than Percy Weasley. I inwardly groaned, but turned my attention to straightening the front of Tristan's robes.

"It's almost curfew," Percy said in that pompous, Head Boy tone he liked to use. "I suggest you each head back to your Houses."

I rolled my eyes and looked up at Tristan, who planted a quick peck on my lips.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," he breathed.

I smiled and nodded, having completely forgotten the evening's earlier encounters with Wood.

* * *

The following Monday, I sat with Klaus and Anna, who had decided to sit at our table. I poked at my toast, having lost my appetite after hearing the rumours about that little Gryffindor first year, Colin Creevey I think, being petrified.

"Oi, Rue, what's wrong?" Klaus finally asked.

"This whole Heir of Slytherin thing is just bothering me."

"Aw, Rue-Rue grew a heart?" Klaus teased and started laughing. Anna gave him a look and his laughter quickly ceased.

"It's alright, Rue," she started, "The staff are doing all they can, I mean, that's what Flitwick told us last night."

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Rue, c'mon. _You_ aren't going to be petrified. We're purebloods. The Heir, whoever he or she may be, is going after halfbloods and muggleborns and the like. Not us."

I shrugged.

"Well, one thing's for certain, at least."

"Yeah, what's that?"

Klaus smiled, "Your 'Harry Potter is the Heir' theory isn't true, since he was in hospital regrowing bones when Creevey was attacked."

I rolled my eyes. Only my brother would be so excited about such a thing.

Anna nudged him, "You should tell her about the other thing."

Klaus furrowed his eyebrows. Anna leaned over and whispered something in his ear, and another smile spread itself across his face.

"Right!"

Anna turned her attention back to her breakfast, feigning disinterest.

"Now, Rue, I've got a very serious matter to discuss with you." Klaus attempted to make his expression more solemn, but failed miserably.

"Yes," I said slowly, sipping my pumpkin juice.

He leaned over the table. "Did you or did you not snog Oliver Wood and then not ten minutes later snog Tristan Gwinnett?"

I sputtered into my juice and began choking.

"Oh dear," Anna said.

I gasped for air after coughing up pumpkin juice for two minutes. "Thanks for helping," I managed.

"I'll take your near-death brush with pumpkin juice as a 'yes', then." Klaus smirked.

I stood and threw my bag over my shoulder. "I've got to get to class," I said harshly and stalked away.

* * *

The next two weeks passed in a flurry in activity. Students were still trying to decide who the Heir was, though I had given up all efforts to affirm my Harry Potter theory, and professors were busy trying to keep us all calm and simultaneously teach us.

Lockhart, of all my professors, did the worst job of actually teaching. Thankfully, I wasn't the only one to notice this. Rose and I frequently discussed our disillusionment with the man, much to Carrie and Fiona's chagrin.

It also seemed that Wood was purposely everywhere I needed to be. I would brush past him on the way to classes. He'd end up sitting next to me in the classes we shared. He even followed me and the team to four of our Quidditch practices before I banished him from the pitch henceforth.

He was always trying to get my attention, saying my name as we passed or slipping me more notes that I didn't bother to read and would toss in the fireplace at the end of the day.

The girls found it all very amusing, especially after they had heard the rumours of my marathon snogging sessions with two Gryffindors who happened to be best mates. And they weren't the only ones. It seemed most of the school knew, which irked me to no end.

_I_ certainly hadn't been the one talking about it, so that left it to two people: Wood and Tristan. Obviously, since Tristan's such a good bloke and all that, it had to be Wood spreading the rumours. I had yet to discover how he knew of the snog with Tristan, but I figured he had likely forced the information out of the poor bloke.

However, before I knew it, it was a Hogsmeade Saturday, and one that I would be spending in the company of my unofficial boyfriend, Mr Gwinnett. Unfortunately, we hadn't been able to spend much time together the past two weeks because he apparently was falling behind in his studies. The time we did spend together was in the library, and we didn't talk much. But it was alright, as I was convinced that our relationship didn't need all that lovey-dovey nurturing that so many others did.

* * *

We'd been to the usual places, including Honeydukes, Zonko's, and The Three Broomsticks for a nice glass of butterbeer, which Tristan had insisted on paying for. We walked hand in hand along the forest's edge towards the Shrieking Shack, slowly making our way through the light dusting of snow that was on the ground.

We stood along the fence, taking in the view for a little while. Tristan hadn't said much the entire afternoon, and I was becoming quite bored. If we weren't going to talk, we could at least do something productive, like snog.

I turned to him, giving what I hoped was a 'come hither' look. He just glanced at me and smiled slightly, before turning to look at the Shack again. I pursed my lips. The stupid boy couldn't take a hint.

I gently pulled on his arm, drawing his attention back to me, before standing on my tiptoes. I pressed my lips against his, hoping that his arms would wrap around me. However, they did not. In fact, he didn't respond to the kiss at all.

I hesitantly pulled away and looked up at him. His brows were furrowed, a look of confusion and something else that I couldn't quite place etched on his features.

"Tristan, what's wrong?" I asked slowly.

He sighed and turned away from me again. I folded my arms over my chest in an attempt to keep warm.

"I'm not blind, Rue," he said softly.

I drew closer to him. "What do you mean?"

"I've noticed how Oliver's been close to you these last few weeks. And, I've _seen_ the way he looks at you."

"Wha-"

"I know he fancies you a great deal, Rue."

I opened my mouth to object, but he turned to me, placing his hand on my shoulder, and continued. "And I know you fancy him, too. I'm sorry, but I'd rather be friends."

He offered me a gentle smile. I stood there, completely dumbfounded, for a few moments. Once I gathered my wits, I shrugged his hand from my shoulder and pushed passed him. Was he honestly denying me?

I fumed as I marched back to High Street. Wood, the absolute wanker, must've said something to Tristan. That had to be it. He was ruining my chances with Tristan because if _he_ couldn't have me, then why should anyone else.

I spotted him and a few of his other mates laughing as they walked out of The Three Broomsticks. I marched over, stopping right in front of him. He looked down at me, his eyebrows raised.

"Can I help you with something, Rue?"

And that is when I poked him roughly, square in the chest.

"_You_ owe me an apology, Wood. What did you say to him, hmm? Did you threaten him?"

A small crowd had gathered around us, looking on with interest.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said slowly.

I lowered my voice, "Tristan, you arse."

"Ah," he said, a look of comprehension crossing his face. He wrapped his hand around my arm and began to pull me up the hill after him, telling his mates that he'd see them back in the common room. All the while I struggled in his grasp, knowing what had happened the last time that he had dragged me off somewhere.

"Let go of me," I cried, trying with all my might to pull my arm from him.

He didn't listen, and we continued on our way back to the castle.

* * *

**And there it is! For those of you who don't know, I've just started a new fic, a RegulusOC, that would love your attention. Also, my friend thesmilingpirate is posting a next generation fic that is very entertaining! So please, go check those out. As you know, J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter Universe, I own the other stuff. Please, oh please grace me with wonderful reviews. A special treat for whoever my 110****th**** reviewer is! And a quick shout-out to TheGirlWhoReadsWarriors, BlueRose22 for her specific dialogue when Tristan turned Rue down, and OhTex. Yours. **


	17. Of Meister Eule and Gagging

We had just reached the front of the castle when Wood finally let go of my arm.

"Honestly, Wood, what is your bloody problem?" I snapped, folding my arms over my chest protectively.

He didn't say anything in return.

"So, we're going to play this game, then? I'll just have to assume you said something to Tristan, because things were going quite well until today, I will have you know."

"Oh, were they?"

"_Yes_, they most certainly were!"

"From what I noticed, they weren't. He's been avoiding you."

"Oh, and whose fault is that?" I stared at him pointedly.

Again, he didn't say anything.

I threw my arms up in exasperation. "You are so impossible!" I cried and went to push past him and march straight back to the Ravenclaw common room.

Wood, however, had other plans. He wrapped his arm around me as I moved past him and pulled me flush against him. I stared up at him wide-eyed, thoughts flying to the dreams that continued to plague me and to that snog we'd had two weeks prior. His free hand slipped around my neck, and before I knew it, his lips pressed against mine.

I was frozen in place for a few moments. Once I came to my senses, I pulled away and promptly slapped him across the cheek. He looked down at me, completely stunned.

"Stop _doing_ that!" I wrenched free of his grasp and quickly turned, sprinting into the castle and out of Wood's sight.

Bugger. Why did it seem like all we did when we were alone was snog?

* * *

Fiona, followed by Rose and Carrie, waltzed into the dormitory as I lay spread out on top of my bed, leafing through one of Carrie's magazines.

I felt a slight sinking towards my feet and turned to see Fiona sitting on the edge of my bed, looking at me with sympathy. "I heard about what happened with Tristan, Rue. I'm sorry."

Carrie nodded grimly from behind Fiona, "We all are. That's just bloody awful he'd turn you down like that after everything the two of you have done the past month. I've never seen anyone work so hard to get a bloke."

Rose sat down on top of the magazine and gently placed her hand on top of my head. I sighed in frustration.

"Look, I'm perfectly alright, I promise."

"You looked positively murderous when you went up to Oliver," Rose said from above me.

I groaned.

Fiona, Carrie and Rose exchanged knowing looks.

"Well, I think Carrie and I have some Arithmancy work to do, so we're off to the library."

Carrie gave Fiona a confused look. "But I thought we'd finished-"

"We'd finished our _Potions_ essay, but we still have to finish our _Arithmancy_," Fiona supplied quickly, grabbing her bag and pulling Carrie after her.

"Oh, right! I get it," I heard Carrie say from the hall.

I sighed and rolled over onto my back. Rose turned slightly.

"That was quite subtle, I have to say."

Rose and I laughed.

"Well, you know, Carrie can be a bit thick sometimes and can't take a hint."

"Too true."

We fell into a comfortable silence as Rose absentmindedly continued to pet my head. I suppose our little tableau would have been an odd thing to stumble upon, but the four of us had learned quite some time ago how best to comfort each other.

"So," Rose broke the silence. "I talked to Matt and Roger."

"Who?"

"The two blokes Oliver was with when you assaulted him."

"Oh," I said, reaching a hand above my head and patting around my pillows, searching for my owl plush, appropriately named _Meister Eule_. After several failed attempts to find him, Rose set him down on top of my chest. I sighed, wrapping my arms around his soft fluff.

"Well, we got to talking as Oliver hauled you off."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, apparently the sixth year boys' room in Gryffindor Tower was the site of one of the biggest rows Hogwarts has ever seen, and it's all Gryffindors have been talking about since."

"When?" I shifted, moving my head so I could more easily look up at Rose.

"About two weeks ago."

"I knew it," I grumbled, my belief that Oliver had said something to Tristan affirmed.

Rose pulled one of my pillows into her lap, "Do you want to hear about it, or would you rather cry about Tristan?"

I scoffed. I wasn't going to cry over a bloke. I was stronger than that.

"Alright, I _think_ Oliver must've seen you and Tristan snogging. From what Matt said, it sounded like he'd followed you when you went after Tristan to explain, or something like that."

I nodded, slipping my fingers under _Eule_'s wings and raising them.

"So, Oliver, being the good bloke that he is despite what you blither on about, decided to let the two of you have a private moment and went back to his dormitory. I suppose the moment turned into an hour or so, and he'd managed to rile himself up quite a bit during that time. Matt and Roger tried to calm him down-"

"Can we skip the awkward male relationship business, please?"

Rose laughed, "Sure. Anyway, so Tristan came to the room, out of it a bit-"

"That was entirely _my_ doing," I said proudly, sitting up and turning to face Rose. I crossed my legs and held _Eule_ to my chest.

"Well, you can brag about your snogging skills after I finish the story. Anyway, Tristan came in and Oliver confronted him about snogging you. Tristan tried to say that you had initiated, but Oliver wasn't hearing any of it because it appeared to him that Tristan had been enjoying himself. It turned into a, oh, how did Roger put it? Ah, 'a shouting match,' I believe, and Oliver called Tristan all sorts of lovely names."

I attempted to imagine Wood saying 'tosser' or 'wanker,' but couldn't.

"Right, well, turns out Wood intimidated Tristan quite a bit- honestly, couldn't you have picked someone with a back bone?- and advised Tristan to stay away from you and that if he even dreamed of laying a finger on you again, Wood would be sure to hex his arse to next week and back."

I pressed my face against the top of _Eule_'s head, mulling over this information.

"So, wait, Oliv-," I caught myself.

"Not finished yet," Rose poked my forehead. "Apparently they came to an understanding, and it has been confirmed that Wood does indeed fancy you and has since the second half of last year."

"_What_?" I hissed, completely rigid. "He treated me even worse the end of last year than he ever had before. He couldn't possibly have-"

"Ah, but that is where you're wrong, dearest. He just wasn't entirely sure what to make of his feelings towards you, and it indeed took him an entire summer to sort himself out."

"That's rubbish."

"No, it's entirely true. It's what he admitted after the row, because Tristan, Roger and Matt wanted to know why he was so bloody protective of you."

I rolled my eyes, "Well, isn't that just _peachy_."

"Rue," Rose said in a wary tone, "just give the bloke a chance."

To avoid further discussion, I threw _Meister Eule_ at her. He hit her right in the face.

* * *

Monday before dinner, I called for an extra Quidditch practice. Our match against Hufflepuff was on Saturday, and, although I was positive that we would defeat those bloody badgers, I wanted to be sure that the team was in tip-top shape.

We managed to get an hour in before it started to downpour, running different plays and passes while Davies did laps around the pitch on his broom. I noticed Wood sitting in the stands, but he left at the first boom of thunder.

Thoroughly soaked, I was walking up the stairs to the Ravenclaw common room when I heard a giggle from behind a statue. I paused, deciding that I may as well see who's having a good time behind a statue of an old hag. I quietly slid behind another statue and looked around it. I gagged at what I saw. To my utter disgust, it was my dearest brother and Anna snogging rather passionately. I quickly turned and scurried away, not particularly desiring to induce illness.

An hour later, I sat comfortably in front of the crackling fire reading a book my uncle had sent me, attempting to clear my head of the horrific snog fest I had witnessed. Klaus stumbled in, a dazed expression on his face. I was about to comment when Fiona, Rose and Carrie exploded through the door, pushing Klaus out of the way. He teetered precariously and bumped into a table that a first year, who squeaked at the sudden disruption, was trying to study at.

Carrie, Rose and Fiona stood in a line at attention before me.

"Dearest, darlingest Rüdiger! We three do desire your company at tonight's feastie. Do you accept our request?" Carrie barked loudly.

I stood, smiling at my mates and straightening my clothes. It had been quite some time since we'd done this, third year perhaps? "Yes, dearest, darlingest friends, I do desire to join you at tonight's feastie!"

"Let us go dine together, dearest, darlingest friend!" Fiona cried, taking my arm and settling it in the crook of her own. Rose and Fiona flanked us as we exited the common room.

* * *

**So, that's chapter 17. The 110****th**** reviewer was BlueRose22, and she gave me a little plotbunny to work with, which is what the next chapter is. It was only supposed to be a little bit to throw in this chapter, but I got a little carried away, as I sometimes tend to do. As always, Jo Rowling owns **_**Harry Potter**_**. That which you don't recognize from the series belongs to me. ****Do grace me with the honor of a **_**review**_**. I plan to post Chapter 18 shortly. Yours.**


	18. Of Tree Trunks and Odd Looks

Classes the following day were completely boring, and I hardly paid attention to them as I was busy doodling various Quidditch plays in my notebooks. Nor did I take account of Wood as he insisted on sitting next to me in DADA, Charms, and Care of Magical Creatures. I certainly hadn't noticed how his arm would brush against mine or how our fingers slightly touched every now and then. Alright, so perhaps I _had_ noticed that, but I definitely did not let on that I had.

The team and I made our way down to the Quidditch pitch after classes, chatting amongst ourselves about the upcoming match. I saw that Wood was following us, so I slowed my walking and encouraged the rest of the team to continue. Fiona gave me an odd look before she glanced over her shoulder. A small, knowing smile spread over her face. "I'll start the warm ups," she said, nudging me before taking off at a light jog.

I sighed, leaning against my Nimbus 2001.

"Wood, I see you there," I called.

His head poked out from behind the tree trunk. I waved him over, slightly annoyed and even more amused by his efforts to hide.

He loped down the hill and stopped in front of me.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking a stroll and enjoying the weather we're having."

I raised my eyebrows at him. The weather certainly wasn't enjoyable. The air was cold and crisp, and I had already lost sensation in the tip of my nose.

"By that you mean you're going to watch my team practise again."

"Well, if you're inviting me," he started, excitement evident in his voice.

"I wasn't, actually," his face fell. "But, if you truly _must_, then I suppose you can watch. Just don't get in the way." I had a sinking feeling that I was going to regret this.

"I was going to whether you agreed to it or not, Rue," he said smugly as we started down the hill to the pitch.

* * *

We'd been practicing for about 45 minutes, everything going perfectly. We ran some of the new plays I had created during my classes earlier in the day. Jamison and Hewes were practicing with the bludgers.

I was flying down the field towards the goalposts when I heard Max bellow, "Look out!"

I turned and saw the bludger just in time, dropping on my broomstick as the bludger flew over my head. My heart was pounding as I turned to glare at Max and John, furious that they were being so careless.

I opened my mouth to scold them when I heard a sickening noise. I spun quickly to see Wood rubbing his head, the bludger having flown off in another direction.

I raced over to the stands where Wood shakily sat and dismounted my broom. Fiona landed behind me.

I leaned over, putting my free hand on his shoulder, "Are you alright? What happened?"

"It knocked him on the head, I saw it," Fiona said from beside me.

"Wood, can you hear me?"

"Huh? Oh, aye, I can." He looked up at me, his eyes somewhat glazed.

I turned to look at Fiona, "I'm going to have to take him to Pomfrey. Can you handle the team?"

Fiona nodded.

"End practice in an hour if I'm not back."

"Yes, Captain! Now go, that bloke needs help." She mounted her broom and ordered for practice to continue.

Wood's arm was thrown over my shoulders. I had one arm wrapped around his waist and the other holding onto his hand as we slowly made our way to the Hospital Wing. The pair of us received more than a few strange looks on the trek, but I tried my best to ignore them. I couldn't wait to hear the rumours that this incident would bring about.

"Rue," Wood mumbled as we reached the top of a flight of stairs.

"Mmhmm."

"I think I'm going to faint."

I shifted under his weight. "Don't you dare do that to me, Oliver _Finley_ Wood," I hissed, looking up at him.

A lazy smile graced his lips, "I'll try not to, _Rüdiger_."

We'd made it to the entryway of the Hospital Wing when I felt Wood slacken against me. I struggled to hold him upright and had to push him over slightly so that he leaned against the doorframe.

"Madame Pomfrey," I cried desperately.

She stepped out of her office and hurried over to me. She pulled out her wand and levitated him to a cot. "What happened?"

"He was hit with a bludger," I said meekly, peering over her shoulder as she inspected him. "He passed out just when we got here."

She nodded and pushed me out of the way, returning to the bed a few minutes later with a tray. I watched her do her handwork, trying to stay out of the way as I sat in a chair near the wall. I glanced at my watch, realising that I had missed the rest of practice.

* * *

"Well, he should come around sometime soon," she said as she pulled a dividing curtain between his bed and the next. I nodded.

"Are you going to be staying with him, Miss Von Straussburg?"

The response was automatic. "Yes, I am."

Madame Pomfrey nodded before returning to her office. I pulled my chair closer to his bed, looking at his peaceful face.

I felt something stirring in my chest. For some reason, I felt dreadful about what had happened, even though I had nothing to do with it. He'd said he was going to watch us practise whether I agreed to it or not. I desperately wished at that moment that he had noticed the bludger coming at him. He'd had enough run-ins with those particular buggers over the years, one would think it'd eventually knock some sense into him.

I reached my hand out and set it over his. I bit my lip and gently squeezed his fingers. I knew Madame Pomfrey would have him right as rain, but I couldn't help worrying.

And then I began worrying about why in Merlin's name I was worried about my enemy. This wasn't my fault at all; it was Jamison and Hewes' fault. I sat back against the chair, but left my hand over his.

It was all so confusing. If you'd had asked me last month if I was capable of feeling anything besides pure loathing towards Wood, the answer would have been a resounding and absolute 'No.' Now, however, I wasn't so sure that that would be my answer. And I _hated_ not knowing how I felt about people, especially the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain lying before me.

Time passed rather quickly, and dinner would be served soon. Wood hadn't stirred at all in the past hour, so I spent my time mulling over everything that had happened between Wood and I so far this year. After a rather lengthy internal debate, I found myself standing and leaning over Oliver's still body, my hand pressing against the bed near his.

I couldn't help thinking to myself that I had just called him Oliver in my own stream of consciousness, but I quickly brushed the thought aside, knowing that if I dwelled on it too much, I would change my mind.

I hesitantly drew in a breath and pushed some of my wavy auburn hair behind my ear. I licked my lips and slowly, ever so slowly, bent further over him and pressed my lips against his.

I pulled away gently, my eyes still closed and my face still near his. I tenderly pressed a hand against his chest. My mind was reeling, and I felt compelled to go in for another kiss, so I did.

This time, however, I felt his lips smile against mine.

I quickly pulled away and looked down at him. He didn't make any movements. I hoped to Merlin he was still asleep, but I decided not to stay to find out. With a huff, I turned on my heel and left the Hospital Wing.

I was late for dinner.

**

* * *

So, that was the little plotbunny! Shout-out to BlueRose22 for coming up with the idea! And I pose another challenge- whoever the 121****st**** reviewer is will get a similar treat! Meaning I really would like for you all to ****review, review, review****! As you know, J.K. Rowling created the Harry Potter Universe, so all that you recognize from it belongs to her. That you don't recognize from the series belongs to me. Yours.**


	19. Of Alcoves and Watercolours

I slid into my place at the table next to Rose, who gave me a short nod as Carrie continued on with some story about two house elves committing some pornographic act, or so I imagined, she had stumbled upon earlier that day. I helped myself to some food and was about to tuck in when Fiona cleared her throat.

"How is he, then?"

I shrugged, "Alright, I suppose. He was out when I left."

"So, we didn't accidentally kill him then?"

"No," I said hesitantly.

"Good. I ordered Jamison and Hewes to polish all our broomsticks tomorrow as punishment."

"That's fair."

Carrie finally finished her story, to which only she laughed. Rose rolled her eyes before turning to me. "I hear you almost got Oliver killed this afternoon!"

I let out a groan and buried my head in my hands.

Rose mussed my hair.

* * *

The next morning, I skipped breakfast because I'd had the sudden inspiration for a few new Quidditch plays whilst bathing. I dedicated the time I would have spent eating to writing and carefully drawing out the plays in my notebook.

I was bounding happily to Charms when I was intercepted by none other than Fred and George.

"Rue, darling," Fred started, taking my right arm and tucking it in the crook of his elbow.

George did the same with my left.

"It has come to our attention that a certain Quidditch captian we are all very, _very_ fond of has been injured."

"Oh, yeah?" I asked nonchalantly.

They exchanged a look.

"Why yes," George said. "And we all are aware of what happened because he decided to make an announcement this morning in the common room before breakfast, you see."

"Oh, right then," I said, attempting to wriggle free from the twins.

"Ah, ah, ah, little Rue-Rue," Fred said, pulling me closer to him. "Don't you try to escape now."

"Especially after causing harm to our Keeper," George said, nodding in agreement. We had stopped before a staircase.

"So, what do you say now?"

"To what?" I asked, looking up between the pair, completely bewildered.

"Wood."

"I have no bloody idea what you two are on about," I said stiffly.

"Rue, you can't fool us," Fred started.

George continued. "You took out Oliver with a bludger-"

Fred finally let go of me so that he could dramatically throw his arms in the air. "Surely, it must be love!"

"You love him, you love him, you love him," George sang.

"Rüdiger fancies another snog," Fred sang back.

"'_Another_ snog'?" I mumbled to myself. I pulled my left arm free from George.

The two continued to sing.

"Oh, piss off," I grumbled before marching up the stairs.

* * *

As luck would have it, I found myself sitting next to a rather smug looking Wood in all the classes we had together that day. I had mentioned this to Fiona during Runes, but she just shrugged it off as coincidence. The stars, or so she believed, were in proper alignment for love.

Complete rubbish, if you ask me.

I had been trying to take a few notes in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but I could feel his gaze on me. It irked me to no end, so I quickly scribbled a note and slid it over to him.

_Would you stop watching me please?_

**I would consider it.**

_Please?_

**I've been trying to get your attention all day.**

_Oh, hadn't noticed. Sorry...?_

**It's alright. I just wanted to say thanks for last night.**

_Er, right. Well then... You're welcome, I suppose. Sorry about the bludger in the first place... They are being properly punished, I assure you._

**Good...**

_Something else I can help you with then? Or am I really that interesting to look at? ... Don't answer that._

**No, thanks.**

I turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised before I went back to taking notes, attempting to shrug off the feeling I got when he watched me. Slight annoyance mixed with something else... Something I hadn't felt before but wasn't going to acknowledge.

Class was dismissed and, with a huff, I stuffed my things into my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and made my way to the door. I was about to take off after Rose and Carrie who were already halfway down the corridor when a warm hand wrapped around my forearm and pulled me into a small alcove against a strong and likewise warm person.

Blasted alcoves.

I looked up into the face of my captor, my hands pressing against a very male chest. I had half expected it to be one of the twins, cornering me again as they had been doing all day.

Instead, I found myself looking up at Oliver, that smug look finally wiped from his face. I was about to pull away when his other hand gently cupped my cheek and he leaned down.

"Thanks," he whispered softly as the space between us shrunk.

His lips barely brushed against mine when someone bellowed for him, presumably one of his housemates. He pulled back, regarding me for a moment, before he let go of me completely.

"Sorry," he muttered, turning to go to whoever had called.

I remained in the alcove, my mind reeling and completely stunned.

* * *

"Where've you been?" Rose asked as I sat down next to her in the library.

I muttered an incoherent response.

She studied me. "Right then, so have you got that Runes essay on you?"

I handed over my completed essay while I rifled through my Potions notes. Snape had set us to researching before we made some draught or another in class.

Applicable notes in hand, I got up and began searching up and down the shelves, grabbing books that seemed relevant. It was likely that most of them weren't, but I'd rather show up to class with a parchment or two of new notes that I could dazzle Snape with than have a few random scribbles thrown together five minutes before class started.

I dumped the books on the table. Rose looked up for a moment before shaking her head and going back to work.

I turned page after page, glancing over the blocks of text, hoping for large, colourful arrows to point me in the right direction. I was distracted by thoughts of that bloody Scot who seemed to think it appropriate to frequently go for a snog when we were alone.

I sighed, attempting to clear my mind, and stared at a particularly grotesque illustration of a Medusa-like creature. Well, I could see why someone would want a potion for that. And, oddly enough, it was right across the page from a strong love potion.

... Love.

An odd concept, really. One I had read so much about, had heard so many people gush over, and yet I knew for a fact that I knew absolutely nothing of it. Or at least I thought I didn't. How could I?

Now, hate and loathing on the other hand... _Those_ were two emotions I had known quite a bit about since my first ride on the Express, especially directed towards one Oliver Wood. But now, even those feelings were becoming muddled in my mind, starting to blur.

Like when someone is painting with watercolours, and the blue of a river or something seeps into the lovely green of the meadow below it, trickling into the yellow and red flowers. And, as desperately as a painter may try, there is nothing to stop the intermingling taking place on the canvas.

And I, like the artist hopelessly scrambling to keep the colours in place, began to panic as I sat there in the library, awkwardly shifting in my seat and hoping that Rose wouldn't notice my odd behaviour.

My heart, it seemed, had settled on its own conclusion. A conclusion I was not ready to admit. Not to myself, and especially not to anyone else.

My mind and all the will power I possessed fought back with one very simple thought:

I do not fancy Oliver Wood.

Which transformed into:

I cannot fancy Oliver Wood.

Which eventually became:

_Gott im Himmel_, I will not fancy Oliver Wood.

**

* * *

Alright, I have several excuses for the lateness of this update. One: I've been busy seeing **_**Inception**_** repeatedly. I very, very strongly recommend it. Two: I'm starting rehearsals for a play, which cuts into my writing time. Three: Our power went out due to a particularly nasty storm, making writing a bit impossible. However, I've finally got chapter 19 out for you, and I hope you enjoyed it. We're seeing a bit of a change in Rue, no? Anyway, J.K. Rowling owns the HP Universe and all that you recognize from it; the rest belongs to me. As always, I beg of you to **_**leave me a loverly review**_** because they make me quite happy. Yours.**

**Now, I've promised some plugs, so here it goes. If you have time, why don't you scoot on over to my profile and check some of these stories out. First, I urge you to read **_**Just The Way It Was**_**, a little one-shot I wrote that explains Oliver's change in heart towards Rue. Second, I beta this lovely SiriusOC by BlackMoonNight called **_**Black Frost**_**; it's really one of the better SiriusOCs I've read in quite some time. Third, my best friend WHASHMACKITY has started a SnapeOC, **_**Poison Rain**_**, that's a lovely little read. And fourth, thesmilingpirate has an entertaining Next Generation fic, **_**Mae Be, Mae Be Not**_**, that needs attention.**


	20. Of Inner Demons and Realisations

I didn't sleep well the next two nights, spending more time battling the inner demons that seemed to rear their ugly heads every time I settled into my pillows and pulled _Meister Eule_ to my chest. The demons always fought back with great force, because when I did finally manage to fall asleep, I would be tormented by steamy, detailed dreams of Oliver Wood.

My mantra, the "I will not fancy Oliver Wood" one, seemed to weaken each time I saw him, and my mates were noticing, despite how hard I tried to hide it.

Friday morning, I was walking with Fiona down to Care of Magical Creatures when I saw Oliver and two of his mates coming down the other path that would meet up with ours. My step faltered, and Fiona had to grab a hold of my elbow so that I didn't fall and injure myself.

"Mind where you're walking," Fiona cried.

I cringed. "Sorry!"

"We _need_ you for this match on Saturday, Rue."

"I was," I paused, adjusting my bag's strap around my shoulder as we continued down the path, trailing behind the Scot and company, "distracted, as it were."

Fiona raised her eyebrows before giving the back of Wood's head a pointed look.

I rolled my eyes.

"You better admit it before you end up hurting yourself. This isn't healthy," she whispered as we came up to our classmates and Hagrid started our lesson.

At that moment, Wood glanced in my direction and gave me a small smile. I felt my stomach plummet before I sneered and turned my attention back to the giant standing before us.

* * *

Classes had ended, and I was on my way to the library when that Scottish accent reverberated down the corridor.

"Oi, Rue." His footsteps slowed down as he reached me.

I looked up at him, continuing onward. "Yeah, Wood?"

"What're you doing?"

I stopped and turned to him, folding my arms over my chest. "Going to the library to finish an essay, why?"

He pressed, "Which essay?"

"The Care of Magical Creatures one that's due Monday."

"Mind if I join you?"

"Actually, y-"

"Good," he said, taking off at a brisk pace. I hurried to keep up with him, mentally cursing my short legs.

"_You_ are going to sit at a different table," I said, having caught up with him.

"No, I don't think I will." I could hear the laughter in his voice. We reached the doors to the library and went in.

I groaned and was about to retort when Madam Pince gave me a particularly sharp look. I huffed and crossed to a table, unceremoniously dumping my bag on top of it and sliding a chair out so I could sit.

To my chagrin, Wood did precisely as he said he would: he pulled out the chair across from me and sat, rummaging through his own bag before he pulled out a blank piece of parchment, a white quill, and ink.

I decided to ignore him and focus on finishing up the last few paragraphs of my own essay. I had gotten to a good start when Wood hissed my name three times, looking nervously between me and Madam Pince.

"What?" I finally hissed back, glaring at him.

"Could you help me with something?"

"Use your book."

"I forgot it," he whispered simply.

"You are so infuriating," I managed through clenched teeth as he grabbed my textbook. I placed my hand over the page he'd opened it to.

He looked up, his brown eyes gleaming mischievously, "I need to look at that."

"Yeah, well, that's _my_ book, and I don't recall saying you could borrow it."

"Then help me."

"With _what_?" I asked incredulously. "We're writing about _dragons_, it's all in the book. Go get your own. Or, oh, I don't know, you could find a book about them seeing as we're in a bloody _library_."

Madam Pince shushed me from her perch behind her desk. I gave her an apologetic look before turning back to a smirking Wood.

"I think I rather like you like this, Rue," he said softly, fixing me with some sort of look that I didn't even want to try to interpret. However, it did awaken butterflies in my chest. I shook my head to rid myself of the feeling before turning back to my parchment.

"But," he started, leaning closer to me. His hand covered my own, preventing me from moving my quill to write. I looked up at him, my heart pounding at the sudden contact. I mentally noted to find a way to properly punish myself for all this wonky behaviour, such as running laps around the pitch or something of the sort.

He looked down at our hands before meeting my gaze. "I also like the Rue that was in the Hospital Wing with me Tuesday night," he said softly, searching my face before his gaze settled on my lips.

My eyes widened. He bloody _knew_. He had been awake when I'd decided to kiss him. Merlin, dammit. I would have to up that self-punishment.

I pushed back against the table, the legs of the chair scratching against the floor, as I quickly tossed all my things into my bag and dashed from the library, leaving a quiet Wood at the table behind me.

* * *

I collapsed on my bed in a fresh pair of pyjamas after having taken a bath. Fiona sat with Carrie on her bed as they thumbed through a _Witch Weekly_ magazine, gushing over some feature on a "ridiculously, impossibly attractive Spanish bloke." Rose was lying on her stomach, writing in her journal and occasionally glancing over at me suspiciously.

My thoughts wandered to Wood and the fact that he _knew_. I still couldn't believe it, and I had spent the better part of dinner worrying about it. I had been so lost in thought, in fact, that when Carrie gently patted my arm to get my attention, I jerked up and away from her, whipping out my wand and poking her in the ribs with it. Rose had asked what had my knickers in such a twist, but I hadn't offered an explanation.

I wished to Merlin that Wood hadn't brought up the incident, as I had absolutely no way to rationalise why I had done it. It was simply because I had wanted to, or so my heart's vocalisation claimed. The logical part of me cried back that it was a stupid thing to have done because I didn't care for him at all, but then yet another voice in my mind emerged saying, "Well, now, that's not entirely true, is it?"

Of course, it wasn't. But, again, that wasn't something I was just going to admit aloud to anyone who would hear. I could barely handle that truth myself, and so I continued to tell myself that I wouldn't and couldn't fancy him.

"Well," I said, growing bored of watching my mates, "I'm going to get some sleep. Fiona, I suggest you do the same."

I pulled the curtains of my bed closed to a chorus of "Good night!" and hoped that I would be blessed with much needed sleep.

* * *

"Rue-Rue," Fiona's sing-song voice came through, interrupting a rather pleasant dream in which I slammed the Quaffle into Marcus Flint's face, "it's time to wake up. Breakfast awaits!"

I grumbled, reaching out blindly in an attempt to shoo her.

Her hand clasped mine, and she began pulling on me, effectively dragging me halfway off my bed.

I let out a yelp as I slammed the palm of my hand against the floor to steady myself. Carrie pulled my blankets off of me, and Rose grabbed my ankles before tossing them off the side of the bed with the rest of me.

I landed on my stomach with an _oomph_ before I rolled over onto my back and glared up at them.

"Stop dreaming about Wood's wood and let's get you geared up for the first Quidditch game of your sixth year!" Rose cried.

Carolina let out a triumphant cry as she threw my Quidditch robes at me. They landed in my lap. I gathered the robes up in my arms and shakily stood before wandering to the loo as my mates cheered my on. I slammed the door shut behind me, effectively quieting them down.

* * *

I sat on my broom as the cold, late-November air whipped around me. Madam Hooch was about to throw the Quaffle up in the air when my stomach gave a slight grumble. I hadn't eaten at breakfast because I was too anxious. I decided quickly to make a dash to the kitchens once the game was over, and I was about to make a list of what to eat when the Quaffle appeared in front of me. I edged my Nimbus 2001 forward and reached out for the red ball before speeding off down the pitch, Fiona and Davies close behind me.

We scored an easy first goal, raising the score 10-0.

The game continued in such a fashion. Hufflepuff eventually scored three goals, making the game 30-30, by some odd twist of fate. I kept an eye on Cho Chang who was still flitting about the pitch in search of the Golden Snitch and mentally urged her to find it soon.

Davies tossed me the Quaffle, and I caught it, having been disrupted from searching for Cho and Diggory. I slowed my broom when I came closer to the Hufflepuff goalposts and prepared to throw the Quaffle when I heard Fiona cry out somewhere behind me. I turned to look at her, but instead felt the full force of a bludger crash into me. The Quaffle fell from my hands as they went limp. I lost grip of my broomstick and slid off of it, falling down. The world went black.

* * *

I was barely coherent when I heard voices around me. I struggled to open my eyes, finding that they stung a bit, and I took in my surroundings. I was in the Hospital Wing, from what I could tell, and I wasn't sure what had happened. I could remember the start of game, and the Hufflepuff goalposts, and the Quaffle falling from my hands... then nothing.

I closed my eyes when Fiona's sharp voice accosted my ears. "Oliver, you can't stay, you've been here for hours. Go get something to eat from the kitchens, I can watch her for a little while."

"No," Wood said with finality.

I heard Fiona huff and then angry footsteps echoed as she stomped off. A chair scraped next to me, and I turned to open my eyes again.

"Rue?" he asked in a hushed voice.

I grumbled in response, attempting to push myself up.

His hands connected with my shoulders, holding me down. "You shouldn't move just yet, you took quite the hit."

"Did I?" I managed weakly, reaching a hand up to my forehead shakily.

Oliver nodded.

"Who won?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"Rue, that's really not import-"

"Who won?" I pressed as forcefully as I could manage, desperately looking up into his dark brown eyes.

"Hufflepuff," he said quietly, dropping eye contact.

I pursed my lips. I could feel that familiar tightness in my chest that usually proceeded a long sob. A tear fell, and I knew that holding back would be futile.

"Rue," he said gently, "Rue, c'mon, please don't cry." He brushed away a few of the tears that stained my cheeks. "It's just a game," he said, continuing to awkwardly attempt to console me.

"B-but, it's not just a _game_," I blubbered, the waterworks finally exploding. "We had to win that match, we always win that match, and, and n-now," I choked on a sob.

"Look at me, Rue," he said.

I couldn't and continued with my sobbing.

He took my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. "Rue, please," his thumbs slid under my eyes, wiping away fresh tears. I bit my lip. "If I had known you would've been more upset about losing the game, I wouldn't have bothered telling Pomfrey to give you a strong painkilling potion."

A mixture of a sob and laugh came from my lips.

"There, now," he said softly, "see? Much better."

I offered him a weak smile.

He continued to wipe away the last few tears that managed to escape. I reached a hand up, wrapping my fingers around his wrist in a feeble attempt to get him to release me. Instead, he froze at the contact, a new look edging its way onto his features.

Before I knew it, his lips pressed urgently against mine. I wasn't sure what to do until instinct finally took over, and I melted into the kiss.

Our snog, however, was interrupted by Madam Pomfrey who cleared her throat. We tore apart from each other, and I could feel the heat flooding my face as I looked into my lap. Madam Pomfrey stood at the foot of my bed.

"It's late, Mr Wood. I suggest you head back to Gryffindor Tower. Miss Von Straussburg should be up on her feet by Monday," she said authoritatively.

He nodded and stood, his cheeks nearly as flushed as mine. He reached out and gave my hand a quick squeeze.

"Get better," he instructed softly before passing Madam Pomfrey, who gave him a harsh look, and hurrying out of the Hospital Wing.

I sighed and settled back against the pillows when Madam Pomfrey walked away after pulling a partition around my bed.

A single thought, a realisation, ran through my mind, ultimately altering my mantra for good:

I fancy Oliver Wood.

**

* * *

Alright, so that is chapter 20! I do hope you enjoyed it, and I'd like to apologize for the delay in updating. However, the next chapter is the final one, thus making it the EPIClogue, which I've had written for months. I'll be posting it later this week, because I would really like **_**to receive a dizzying amount of reviews**_** for this chapter. As you know, Ms Rowling owns the Harry Potter Universe, and I own all that you don't recognize from it. Also, please check out my RegulusOC fic, **_**A World Unseen**_**. I think it's pretty decent, though certainly a far cry from anything else I've written thus far. Shout out to WHASHMACKITY for being awesome. **_**Please, please, please review**_**! Yours.**


	21. Of Poetry, Marathon Snogs, & EPIClogues

Rain poured from the clouds and beat down against my back, certainly suiting the horrid mood I found myself in the Monday following the Quidditch match. I couldn't understand how we had lost so spectacularly, and to Hufflepuff nonetheless. 200-40? That was a bit embarrassing.

I didn't know how long I had been running around the pitch, but I wasn't planning on stopping until I had thoroughly punished myself. The rain blurred my vision, and I had long since forgotten the Gryffindor practice that had been occurring above my head and out of sight. Why Wood insisted on practicing in this weather, I had no bloody clue. He was beyond bonkers, sometimes.

I soon lost myself in thought, replaying Saturday's game over and over in my head. I had blacked out completely. I couldn't even remember what happened, really. I remembered looking in the stands, searching for Diggory and Cho, and then turning my head before, apparently, a bludger came and knocked me senseless. I woke up in the Hospital Wing late at night, surprised to find that Oliver was at my bedside and ready to comfort me.

I was informed by Fiona that Oliver had easily been the first one on the pitch and at my side after I had fallen. She said that he had stayed with me, even when my own team had decided to call it a night. This greatly tore at me, but it made my heart swell with pride in the fact that it had finally won this war.

My thoughts were interrupted by a loud, accented voice calling my name. I kept running, pushing myself harder through the downpour. The voice grew louder, and I was shocked when hands wrapped around my shoulders and held me back, forcing me to stop.

I was breathing heavily as I turned and looked up into his face.

"You've got to stop, Rue," Wood said loudly over the sound of the rain.

I stared blankly up at him, raindrops weighing heavy on my lashes.

"We're all inside. Please, come with me."

I only nodded, and he pulled me after him to the Gryffindor changing rooms.

I wiped the rain from my face as we entered the rooms. The Gryffindor team looked up at me, some puzzled. Others, like Fred and George, smiled contentedly. I followed Oliver into the office he was granted as a captain. He shut the door behind me. I had never been in another captain's office before. His was rather bare, save for a poster of some Scottish Quidditch pitch in Perth that I was vaguely familiar with. There were books lined on the shelves and some notebooks, no doubt full of play ideas, were piled on top of them.

My eyes finally slid to Oliver, who was watching me as I inspected his room and was holding out a towel. I grabbed it and muttered my thanks as I pulled it over my face and slid it through to the ends of my hair, which were curling up, much to my dismay.

After drying off myself as best I could, I handed the towel back to Wood, who tossed it on a nearby chair. It was tensely quiet between us for some time, and it made me nervous. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Rue, I," he started before looking down at his feet. He took a deep breath before stepping closer to me.

It reminded me of the dreams I had been so haunted by this past month, and then my thoughts flew to the all the snogs. I wanted to withdraw, but I knew I couldn't. I shouldn't.

As much as I hated to admit it to myself, I was fond of him. Fond of arguing with him, fond of torturing and upsetting him, fond of how he sought me out almost daily, fond of how he was able to hold his own against all the shit I gave him, fond of the sound of his voice when he said my name… As insufferable as he could be, I really did fancy him.

He opened his mouth to speak, now standing toe-to-toe with me and looking down into my eyes. Merlin, how brown his eyes were.

His lips remained slightly parted, but no words came. His fingers reached for my hair, curling a wave around his finger before he let his entire hand weave its way through. I couldn't help but lean into its warmth, suddenly aware of how cold I was.

It was then that his other hand gently and hesitantly slid under my chin and further raised my face. His warm fingers brushed down my neck and my breath quickened. He leaned down slowly, his eyes searching mine before my own finally slid shut.

I could feel his breath against my skin, my lips. It was warm. This was nothing like all those other snogs. Was this how it was _supposed_ to be? Was it really just as those bloody awful romance novels depicted?

His lips had only lightly brushed against mine when there was a harsh and abrupt knock on the door. We both flew apart. I turned, leaning against his desk, and faced the wall displaying the poster. I could feel my cheeks burning at what had just barely happened. Oliver opened the door, and Fred's voice floated into the room.

"We're gonna make a run for the castle before it gets worse. You both should probably come, too. Don't want you to get trapped here for the night!"

I could sense the smirk in Fred's voice. I bristled and huffed before turning and brushing past the two of them.

* * *

November ended and a chilly December settled in the following week. I didn't see much of Oliver, and it bothered me to no end. In classes, he barely glanced at me, only chancing one if I wasn't looking, according to Rose. He no longer searched for me in the corridors or tried to talk to me. It infuriated me, and I knew precisely why. Rose, Fiona and Carrie were still trying to draw out a confession that I fancied the bloke, especially with my depressed mood. However, I refused to give them the satisfaction and went on wallowing in my disappointment and dejection on my own.

I let out a groan as I sat on a bench next to Fred and George. They glanced at me and exchanged a knowing look.

"What's wrong with our Rue-Rue?" George asked.

"Oh, like you don't know, you cow," I said harshly, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Don't need to be touchy, dearest. We've already got a Quidditch coach acting off, we don't need our best mate doing the same."

"What?" I perked up instantly, curious about Oliver's moodiness.

"Yeah, you know, he's just been… a bit strange, you know, since that rain storm we had."

"You know, the one where he rescued you from the storm and brought you to the safety of his office," George supplied.

"And, we've noticed that you've been the same," Fred continued.

George nodded, "We just notice Oliver a bit more, being in the same house and all. But that's besides the point. I saw him just the other day with _Twelve Failsafe Ways to Charm Witches_."

"And I saw him snooping about the library, in the poetry section. Methinks the boy's heart aches for she who refuses him!" Fred cried dramatically, placing a hand over his heart.

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. Oliver in the poetry section? Hardly. I wasn't even sure if we _had _a poetry section in the library. They were just making that up. Sometimes the twins' imaginations got the best of them.

"Well, from the sounds of it, she hasn't really been refusing him at all, has she, Fred?" George cocked his head to the side, studying me.

A smirk snuck onto Fred's lips, "No, I suppose she hasn't."

"You wankers are full of rubbish," I said, sliding back a bit on the bench.

"That's just what we saw," Fred shrugged.

"And, as much as we'd love to stay and chat," George said as they both rose to their feet, "we really must be going."

"Chin up, yeah? We miss the fun Rue," Fred said as they took off down the corridor, weaving in and out of incoming students. I sighed, closed my eyes, and leaned back against the cool stone wall.

* * *

It seemed that the Weasley twins weren't the only ones who felt the need to interrogate me about my recent behaviour that day. Klaus and Anna approached me as I made my way to dinner.

"If it isn't my darling sister, Rue," Klaus cried in a sickeningly sweet tone that he usually reserved for Anna. He took my arm and slipped it in the crook of his, gently patting the back of my hand.

"What do you want?" I groaned.

Anna giggled beside me. I couldn't help but to roll my eyes.

"I was simply wondering what's got you in such a foul mood of late, sister mine," Klaus said nonchalantly.

"We thought that it was because of a certain Gryffindor, you know," Anna said.

Klaus gave her a look over the top of my head. "_You_ thought that, Anna. _I_ said that we should ask Rue. So, what has been bothering you?"

"Nothing that concerns you, _brother mine_," I shot back.

"Tsk, tsk, just tell me."

"No."

"But you admit that something is bothering you?" Anna asked in a hopeful voice.

I glanced at her, "Yes."

"And," I turned my attention back to my brother, "is this 'something' really a 'someone'?"

I shrugged.

"Ah, so it is!" Klaus said triumphantly.

Anna let out another giggle.

"Now, who is someone who bothers my sister?" Klaus mused aloud.

Anna hummed beside me, "Oh, I don't know. Only one comes to mind, really."

"Yes, quite right, Anna darling! The reason my sister is troubled must be because of Mr Wood of Gryffindor House!"

I grumbled incoherently, a slew of curses running through my mind, before I roughly tugged my arm from my brother and stomped off into the Great Hall.

* * *

Later that day, I sat in the Common Room, working diligently, for once, on an Ancient Runes essay that had been assigned that very same day.

Fiona was walking past the table I sat at, but stopped and turned.

"Hey, Rue?"

I looked up from my parchment, "Yeah?"

"Aren't you going up to the Astronomy Tower to work on your chart?"

I furrowed my brow. "I wasn't planning on it, why? When's it due?"

"Tomorrow, I thought!" Fiona gushed.

My eyes widened and I shot up out of my seat. "Bloody hell!"

I darted for our dormitory and grabbed my chart, stuffing it into my bag before flying back down the stairs, past Fiona, and out to the corridor.

* * *

I sighed, looking through the scope at the constellations above. Why I had opted to take Astronomy as a sixth year was beyond me, as it was pointless chart assignments like that which irked me. And it wasn't a terribly useful subject either. Stupid OWLs.

I had just finished writing "Sirius" on the name of the brightest star with a flourish when I heard a shuffling behind me. I spun around to see who it was, brandishing my quill in what I hoped was a somewhat threatening manner.

I lowered my hand, however, when I saw that it was Oliver. I felt my heartbeat increase its pace. "Er, hi," I managed breathlessly.

I turned back to my chart, rolled it up, and jammed it into my bag with my quill and inkwell. I was about to pull the bag over my shoulder when I felt a soft, warm touch on my forearm. I let the strap fall back on the table and turned to face the inevitable.

He was closer than I had thought.

"Oliver, I…" I bit my lip. "What, I mean… Why have you been avoiding me all week? And then you come here? How did you know-"

I trailed off, running my tongue over my lower lip, when I saw the pained expression on his face as he closed his eyes. I didn't know what I had done to cause this or what to do. It wasn't fair.

"Look, I didn't mean to offend y-"

This time he cut me off, his voice warm and lilting in the quiet stillness. "Just let me say this before I realize what a fool I am, and I change my mind. You can go back to hating me, but you must know how I feel, even if I can't put it into words of my own."

He opened his eyes. I studied them for a moment before nodding and waiting for him to continue. I awkwardly shifted my weight and clasped my hands in front of myself. Finally, he took a shaky breath as he looked down at his feet.

He began softly: "The nightly heavens are not more beautiful Than you, beloved. Sorrowful and still, My vase of tears."

I couldn't help but to think that, had I been watching any other bloke say this to a girl, I would be gagging at how ridiculously pathetic he was and would probably call him a tosser. But, as much as the snide little voice inside of my head laughed and begged him to stop, I knew better than to say anything aloud.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, before continuing: "And when you turn away My love grows stronger. Night displacing day, I love you for the leagues of irony You place between my pleading and the sky."

He was silent for a moment longer. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest; I knew what it longed for me to do, completely overpowering any doubts I may have had. _Oh, damn it all, Rue_, I thought to myself before he proceeded once more.

"I crawl across your-"

And it was then that I could no longer take it. I didn't worry about the consequences as I reached up, placed my hands on his cheek and neck and pressed my lips firmly against his. Lips slightly parted, our breaths interlaced. All thoughts and hesitations forgotten, I let my hand wind its way down his neck and pull a fist of his shirt between my fingers. His arm curled around my waist, his hand buried in my hair. He gently pulled back and then kissed me, several times more, before I felt his tongue slip into my mouth.

And there was nothing more. Just the warmth of Oliver and the feeling of floating in a warm paradise. How wonderful I felt, as though I would be able to fly away, or save the world, or do any of those other things that people do when they feel wanted, loved.

Neither of us could be bothered to fret over what would become of this or where this would take us. We were merely content to bask in the shower of passion that washed over us as we continued to kiss.

I couldn't help but sigh as his lips trailed across my cheek and to my neck.

He suddenly stopped, pulling away slightly and looking down at me, a serious expression on his face. "Rue, are we," he started.

I quirked an eyebrow and hummed softly, waiting for him to continue. I was still a bit dazed from the marathon snog.

He cleared his throat. "Are you my girlfriend, then?"

I huffed, wrapping my arms tighter around him, "Of course, you dolt." I paused, thinking about what people might say. "However, would you mind if we don't announce it to everyone right away? I'd rather not have the Spanish Inquisition on my arse until after hols."

He smiled warmly, his eyes twinkling, "Whatever you want, Rue."

"Lovely. Now go back to snogging me, will you?"

Oliver did as he was told, time slipping by us.

Oh, what a splendid and implacable disdain.

* * *

**That, my dearest readers, is the end of this particular tale, and I do hope it was an EPIClogue. I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks to all who participated in the _onslaught of reviews_ for chapter 20; maybe you could do the same for this one? Anyway, the poem Oliver partially recited was "The nightly heavens are not more beautiful" by Charles Baudelaire. Now, as you know, everything you recognize from the Harry Potter Universe belongs to Jo Rowling; that which you do not belongs to me. I hope you enjoyed this little tale, and I would very much appreciate hearing from you by way of _review_! Yours always.**


	22. Of Author's Notes and OneShots

**Author's Note**:

So, I do hope you found the end of _A Bird in Flight_ to your liking! While this story is over, I've already begun work on the sequel, which I hope to post very soon.

In the mean time, I would like to turn your attention to three one-shots I've written that are pure Oliver/Rue goodness. The first has already been posted. I will be posting the second and third later this week.

The first, "Just The Way It Was," is a throwback to Oliver and Rue during their fifth year when they stumble upon the Mirror of Erised after serving a detention together. If you haven't already read it, I highly suggest you do.

The second is entitled "The High Road." Rue and Oliver are reunited on the Hogwarts Express after a long summer apart. Clearly, they'll have plenty of catching up to do.

The third, "The Low Road," takes place after Oliver and Rue have graduated from Hogwarts and is based loosely on a plotbunny provided by TheGirlWhoReadsWarriors. Please heed the rating. If you aren't comfortable with described intimacy, I _strongly_ recommend you avoid the last page break. However, if you find yourself wanting some serious Oliver/Rue action, it's definitely worth your time!

If you do read them, know that I would really appreciate your reviews.

I wish you all happy reading, whether you choose to read the one-shots or not. It's been wonderful writing for you, and I absolutely cannot wait to continue.

All the best,

SAS.


End file.
